


Becoming Human

by StarsAlign (WinchesterFeels)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky's getting over the HYDRA drugs, Drug Addiction, Hurt/Comfort, I was gonna write a sex scene or three, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Medical, Medical Jargon, Multi, PTSD, and it gets ugly, and it's as accurate as can be hoped for, but that didn't really happen, but then it gets better, i did my research, i promise the end is happy, just allusions to such, medically speaking that is, so no real sex scenes, withdrawals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterFeels/pseuds/StarsAlign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky shows up on Steve and Sam's doorstep half-conscious and severely ill, they don't know what to do. They call up their friends and start down a crazy path they never thought they'd have to walk. All the while, Sam is on a mission to help Steve find his happy place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He expected taking the leap was going to be the hardest part. At the time, he had thought that launching himself off a flaming helicarrier after the man that claimed to be his friend was going to be the most difficult thing he would do all day.

As usual, Bucky Barnes was wrong.

He was shocked back to the reality of the situation when he landed in the icy water - icy cement-like water, because of the height he had fallen from. Swimming to the surface was second nature to a soldier with the inbred survival skills he had. Searching for the silhouette of the other man was easy because of his enhanced eyesight. Diving down after him, though, took more effort than it should have.

Bucky’s instincts screamed at him the whole way down, lungs threatening to burst as he finally cleared away the last of the wreckage to get to Steve. He could remember that much. The man who he had just rescued, whose arm he was currently using to drag his unconscious body to the surface; his name was Steve. When Bucky finally surfaced, spluttering for air, he had to make a conscious decision to keep his hold on Steve’s arm. Even though the shoulder was dislocated, he was grasping Steve with his right hand - he had to feel the warm skin under his touch to make sure he was still there. 

Swimming to the shore was surprisingly difficult. Bucky had never been too great of a swimmer in the first place, and it wasn’t like the Russian spy with a metal arm would need to swim very much, either. He somehow managed to tread water and float Steve along the surface while keeping his injured shoulder somewhat still until they got to where it was shallow enough to stand. Making sure Steve’s mouth was out of the water the whole time, he then proceeded to drag him to onto the shore, using his metal arm after succumbing to the pain in his shoulder. Steve’s unconscious form flopped like rubber onto the ground when Bucky let go of his arm, but he was breathing, and that was all he actually cared about. 

For some reason, it felt wrong to leave him there, not just alone and in urgent need of medical attention, but also without his shield. Bucky had a feeling that whoever Steve worked for wouldn’t be able to get it out of the bottom of the Potomac. Contemplating, Bucky also considered that it would be a “nice” thing to do before he left, especially since he never planned on seeing this familiar stranger again. So back into the cold, debris filled water he went. 

It took longer than he had anticipated to find the special shield. Sure, it was the only perfectly circular thing amongst the wreckage, but there was a shit ton of wreckage to search through. When he finally found it and got back to shore, Steve’s eyes were fluttering. He looked at Bucky in confusion for a brief moment, then slipped back into unconsciousness. Bucky didn’t really care that he’d seen him - people don’t tend to remember things when they were conscious for only a second - but he was glad that his brain was working well enough to allow him to regain consciousness. That’s a good sign. 

He still felt weird leaving Steve there without telling anyone. Bucky wasn’t sure why he felt this way - he usually had no problem with leaving people for dead. But this man was different, had always been different, so he supposed it was right that he treat him differently, too. 

Rummaging around in Steve’s pockets, careful not to touch the bullet wound on his leg, Bucky found a phone. Thankfully for him, it was waterproofed enough (or he was just lucky enough) that it still worked after their dive into the river. Bucky scrolled through the minimal contacts with his right hand, and ended up going to the recent calls to see who he contacts most. It was between two people, “Nat” and “Sam,” when he heard someone coming. He clicked on the nearest contact, “Nat,” and held the phone up to his ear. 

“Steve?” A somehow familiar woman’s voice answered, “Steve, are you alright? Where are you?”

Knowing he had to keep it short, Bucky spoke quickly. “Potomac by the Triskellion. Do not tell him,” then hung up. He set the phone down in the shield next to Steve, knowing they had the ability to trace the call if they wanted to, and walked quickly away, leaving no footprints behind. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, or what he was going to do, all he knew was that he wasn’t going to be anyone’s soldier anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve finally came to in the hospital, it was cause for celebration.

“Why exactly are we having cake, Natasha?” Steve asked as he watched her cut the chocolate cake she smuggled in for him.

“Because,” she said, licking icing off her finger and passing him his piece on a paper plate. “You woke up from a coma, and I wanted cake.”

“Nat, really. I wanna know why,” Steve said as he accepted the plate.

“Cause we’ve had a really crappy past couple of days, and we could use a pick-me-up,” she said with a shrug as she passed Sam his piece. “Too unassuming to make this about you? That’s not very American, Steve,” she said with a half-smirk.

“Let’s keep telling Captain America that he’s not acting very American. I’m sure he has no idea,” Sam added, laughing.

“Especially when half of his personality is un-American,” Natasha said matter-of-factly. 

Steve was chuckling a little - as much as someone who had taken a shot to the stomach less than a week ago could. “Yeah, yeah, I know. This new America’s weird. And you’re right, Nat. We could use this little pick-me-up. Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me,” she said, looking up from her cake for a moment. “Hill said Nick helped make it.” Sam snorted, and doubled over laughing, and Steve just looked at Natasha, grinning and shaking his head. 

“You’re terrible,” he said with a chuckle. Natasha shrugged, and finished off her last bite of cake by dramatically licking the remaining frosting off her plastic fork. 

Before anyone could say anything else, Natasha’s text tone sounded. She pulled out and read it, before saying “Shit. Sorry guys, I’ve got to go.” 

“What’s up?” Steve asked, watching her gather up her things and head to the door.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Steve. Sam, you got this?” 

“You know you don’t need to be here all the time to babysit me, right?” Steve said as Sam nodded to Natasha. She was out the door before Steve was halfway done with his question.   
“We know we don’t need to be here all the time, but let’s face it, you’d be bored out of your skull sitting here alone, and I’ve got nothing better to do. It’s really a win-win,” Sam said.

“You have stuff to do down at the VA, right? And, like, normal person things,” Steve said obstinately.

“Nat’s here when I have to be down at the VA, and that’s only once a week. Besides, you’re more important than all of those ‘normal person things’ I have to do.” 

“You sure? I mean, you really don’t have to stay...” Steve trailed off, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how much he wanted Sam to stay. 

“I’m sure,” Sam said with a grin. “So. Do you remember anything after falling into the river?” 

“Only bits and pieces between falling and waking up yesterday,” Steve said with a sigh. “But it’s the weirdest thing. I remember waking up on the riverbank, looking up, and seeing... Bucky... walking out of the water with my shield. I didn’t think he’d come in after me.” 

“Do you think that could have actually happened?” 

“I mean, I guess it’s possible, but I don’t know. This whole brainwashed assassin him acts very differently than the old him. If this was the same Bucky from growing up in Brooklyn, the ladies’ man who always had my back, then I would say yes. Definitely yes. But that Bucky never came home from the war. He died in the Swiss Alps in 1945.” 

“I could have guessed as much, but I wanted to make sure,” Sam said. “Were you guys really close growing up?” 

Steve nodded. “Incredibly. He was my friend forever. He would invite me over to his house all the time, especially when my mother was sick and after she died, because they had enough food for six when we didn’t even have enough for 2. I’m sure he promised my mother on her deathbed that he would watch out for me, because he seemed to have this superhuman “Steve’s in trouble again” sense, and was always able to find me before things got too out of hand. He would take care of me whenever I got sick, even if I didn’t tell him I was feeling shitty. He just somehow always seemed to know. He would let himself into my apartment and, more times than not, find me passed out on my bed running a high fever. His mother would send over homemade soup, and Bucky’d spend the night on my floor until I got better, or at least well enough to make it to his house, where they had a heater and better healthier food. “

Steve paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “You know, I used to love art. I wanted to be an artist. Even in the depression, Bucky never dissuaded me – always supported me. He would work extra shifts at the docks or play high-stakes poker games with the butcher and some of the more successful store owners just to pay for my art supplies. How he managed to convince them to play with him, I’ll never know, but most of the time he came home with huge winnings. Especially after my mother died, he was always there, willing to run to me at a moment’s notice.

“When he was drafted, I was devastated. He told me he enlisted, but I was sure, I’m still sure, he was lying through his teeth. He loved New York too much, and wasn’t really the patriotic type. Before he left, he made me promise to write him everyday, and I did. I would send him sketches that I’d drawn that day, or relevant newspaper clippings, or comics I thought he would like, along with a letter. He probably had lots of letters coming from other girls in New York, but he was my best friend, and he only asked for that one thing. And I promised. I felt like I had to follow through. To be honest, I lived for the few and far between days that I would get a reply from him.” 

There was a pause before Sam spoke. “Wow. I knew you guys were close, but... Wow. So, if you don’t mind me asking, were you two an... Item?” Sam asked, looking over at Steve and trying to read his face, though he appeared to be lost in thought. 

“I know we grew up in Brooklyn, a historically gay neighborhood, but it was still the 20’s and 30’s. I’m almost certain that if we lived in this day in age, we would have been an ‘item,’ but back then it was too taboo to try to do anything in public. We did do some things in private, but they were so private that I’m not sure if even his mother knew about us. Let’s just say that it was very rarely... Physical,” Steve said. Sam watched his face after he stopped talking, and recognized his far-off look as that that of a man reliving old memories. 

“I get that,” Sam said simply. “Riley and I were somewhat similar,” he paused, waiting for Steve to respond, but he was too far lost in his own world to pay attention to Sam right then. Sam let him think for a while before trying again. “Steve? Do you want to try to find him?” 

Steve sighed. “I feel like I need to, you know? I mean, for years I thought he was dead, and now it turns out he’s alive? And alone? He was there for me for so long, I can’t leave him alone like that. So, yes, I want to try to find him, but... What if he doesn’t want to be found? But we can’t let them capture him again. But I don’t want him to feel like we’re capturing him, either. I... Yeah. We should find him. I think.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Sam said, “I think we should find him, too. If there’s any hope that the old him’s still there, you deserve him back. I know I would do the same if it were Riley.” 

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve paused before continuing. “I know you and Riley were close... Were you two an... An item?” 

Sam smiled. “We were, kind of. He was more my best friend than anything, but once we got to the base, things started changing. We were still friends, but... It was more than that, you know? Not necessarily physical, though that happened more often than not, but just more... connected. It was nice. I actually felt happy for once, even though we were in the middle of a war.” 

“I definitely understand that,” Steve said with a slight sigh. 

The room was filled with a comfortable silence for a minute, until Sam got up the courage to ask, “Steve? Do you want to, well, lay off of ‘us’ for a bit while we look for him?” Upon seeing Steve’s somewhat hurt expression, he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll come with you no matter what. I just don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.” 

Steve nodded. “I... I’m not sure. Probably not, to be honest, cause I really like what we have here,” he said, reaching over to hold Sam’s hand. “And cause, well, I don’t think I could do this alone.” 

“No problem there: no matter what, you won’t go through this alone. And if you decide at any point that you want to take a break, for whatever reason, just let me know,” Sam said before bringing Steve’s palm in his up to his face, gently dropping a kiss on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve was released from the hospital a week later, under strict orders to take it easy, and on the condition that he stayed under the supervision of a licensed medical professional and sent progress reports to the hospital every week for the next month. They also made Sam secretly promise that he would bring Steve back in if something went wrong. 

“They’re still shitty terms of release,” Steve complained as he crutched and Sam walked out to the parking lot. “I’m obviously fine. I don’t need to go to the doctor’s every week for the next month. And it means we can’t make any progress on the search for a whole month! He could be anywhere in the world by then!” Steve huffed as he climbed into the passenger’s seat of Sam’s new SUV. New because, curiously enough, his insurance company said he didn’t qualify for reimbursement to get the old one fixed. Something about having the steering wheel ripped out by a Russian assassin didn’t make the car worthy of repairs in their eyes. 

“We can start in the city. DC’s a big place, and it was where he was left on his own for the first time in who knows how long. Probably about 70 years,” Sam replied. 

“But he’s probably already gone,” Steve groaned. “And it’s not like I can do that much,” he said, gesturing to his bandaged leg and crutches. 

“You said yourself, we’re not going to find him unless he wants to be found.” 

“So?” 

“So, we’ll just go about our days normally, you healing and me helping you heal, and if he finds us, so be it. And if after this month he hasn’t found us, then we’ll start looking for him. Ok?” Sam proposed, having already weighed all his options and deciding this was the best for everyone involved. 

“I guess... I was just hoping to get started sooner. Like, today sooner,” Steve said, trying to be persuasive and failing miserably.

“Not gonna happen,” Sam said with a smile. “All we’re doing today is meeting Nick and Nat at the cemetery, then going home.” 

“Fine,” Steve sighed and slumped down in his seat. 

“And when we get home, all you get to do is sit on the couch watching old movies with me,” Sam said with a smirk. 

Steve tried to give him a dirty look, he really did, but he couldn’t hide his smile very well. Sam laughed at what now looked like Steve’s wanna-be pouty face, leaned across the center console, and gently kissed Steve’s lips before starting the car.

One cryptic Russian file and one conversation with a dead man later, Steve and Sam were standing alone in the cemetery.

“So when do we start?”

“You and I both know when we start – as soon as you let me, Mr. Para-Rescue,” Steve said, pivoting gingerly around to face him. “And until then, I’m gonna be learning Russian and reading this file cover to cover lots of times.”

Steve tried to walk dramatically back to the car, but after taking a couple limping steps, Sam swooped up behind him and slid his arm carefully around Steve’s back. Before Steve could object, Sam said, “I can’t make you use the crutches, but you have to have some help getting around. It’s either the crutches or me.”

With a sigh of defeat, Steve shifted so that a good amount of his weight rested on Sam’s shoulder. They walked down the grassy hill to the car in companionable silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roughly two weeks after saying their goodbyes to Natasha and Nick at the cemetery, Sam and Steve could be found in Sam’s small suburban house watching movies. The same place they had been since they left the cemetery. They’d plowed their way through the classic Star Trek series and movies, and watched all the Lord of the Rings movies in a day. Tonight, they were watching everything Sherlock: from all the classic film adaptations to the modern-day TV series’.

“You’ve seen pictures of Tony Stark, right?” Steve asked Sam towards the end of one of the more recent films.

“Course I have, he’s one of the most powerful people in the world. Why?”

“Is it just me or does the guy playing Sherlock look suspiciously like him?” Steve asked, rolling his head to face Sam, who was curled up on the other couch.

“You know what… Yeah. Yeah he does. I guess you’ll have to ask him about that next time there’s an Avengers get together, or whatever you guys call it when you save the world together.”

Steve laughed. “I guess so. And we don’t just see each other when the world needs saving. That’s just most of the time,” he said with a grin.

“Right. Obviously the world’s mightiest heroes would take time out of their busy schedule for weekly lunches and video games,” Sam deadpanned.

“To be fair, we’ve only done the videogames thing once. Thor broke the TV with the Wii remote before Tony and Clint finished teaching him and me how to use it. “

“I didn’t… You mean you guys actually tried to have a video game day? That’s fucking awesome!”

Laughing, Steve said, “Yeah, it was pretty great. Or, would have been, had it actually happened. There’s really only one complaint I have about the group.”

Sam waited for Steve to continue, and when he didn’t he said, “Well? What is this one complaint?”

“No one’s ever willing to come cuddle with me,” Steve said, trying out his best puppy-dog face for effect.

Sam could take that flashing neon sign of a hint, and hauled himself up from his couch grinning and shaking his head. Steve rolled onto his side to make room for him, back pressed against the back of the couch as Sam crawled onto the couch. He pressed his back gently against Steve’s chest, careful not to press against the minimal wrappings of Steve’s two-week-old bullet wound. It didn’t seem to bother him that much, though, because Steve wrapped his arms tightly around Sam and snuggled up closer to him.

After a few minutes, Sam spoke up. “Steve?”

“Mmmm?”

“Remember that time I asked you what makes you happy?”

“Yeah… I said I didn’t know. I still don’t, by the way.”

“Well I wanna help you find something that makes you happy. I wanna make sure you know that you always have something to do and people to see that make the world a good place to be.”

A brief pause. “So you’re going to try to help me find my happy place?”

A smile. “I am on a crusade to try to find your happy place.”

Steve pressed his face into Sam’s neck, holding him even more tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Sam waited a minute before continuing. “On that note, why don’t you draw or paint or anything anymore?”

“You remembered,” Steve said with a small smile, pulling back just far enough to look Sam in the eyes before hiding his face in Sam’s neck again. “I did, during the war. But since I woke up here, I just… I don’t know, there’s nothing that I feel inspired to draw anymore. The world’s so busy now, and expects so much from me, and I don’t have time. Even when I do, until now there hasn’t been much that I’ve wanted to draw.”

Sam let that sink in, choosing to catalogue it in his mind instead of questioning Steve further.

By then, the credits were rolling and they’d missed the best part of the movie, but neither of them cared about that too much. The two of them lay together, not caring about the status of the movie, for a long while. It wasn’t until after the screen had gone black that Sam reached for the coffee table to grab the remote. He was about to press play for the next Sherlock Holmes movie when he heard a thumping sound coming from the front of the house.

Sam turned his head to look at Steve, who apparently had heard the noise too, judging by the confused expression on his face. A beat of silence, then another noise that sounded almost like knocking.

With more speed than should have been possible for someone who had been hospitalized just two weeks before, Steve was up off the couch and out of the room, off to answer the door. Sam wasn’t far behind him, but Steve was the first one to the door. He’d somehow managed to pick up his shield on the way there, and hid it behind his back as he cautiously opened the door.

Steve’s form blocked Sam from seeing who, or what, was on the doorstep, but he was able to watch his posture go rigid, then completely slack. Confused, Sam jogged the last couple of steps to Steve’s side. He looked first to Steve, who had a slack-jawed look of bewilderment plastered on his face, then to the form leaning heavily on the wall by the door. It was a man, probably, with long oily hair and the beginnings of a beard growing across his jaw. He was wearing old, tattered, maybe even second-hand clothes, a couple of jackets over a flannel over who knew what else, and holy fuck he had a metal hand.

“Holy shit,” Sam said quietly. This made the man look up at him, face pained and light eyes pleading. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Steve said, still bewildered. “It’s Bucky. Shit, Sam, you gotta help me get him inside.”


	2. Chapter 2

Between the two of them, Sam and Steve managed to half help, half drag Bucky inside and to the couch. Before letting him collapse into the inviting cushions, Sam worked off the jackets Bucky was wearing, leaving just the flannel on his trembling chest. The moment his crumpled form landed on the soft worn cushions, Bucky rolled onto his side and curled into a loose fetal position.

“He looks horrible,” Steve whispered to Sam as Bucky started muttering something unintelligible. Upon getting closer, Sam was able to discern that he was speaking Russian. Sadly, neither Steve nor Sam spoke Russian. In the middle of the Russian, though, Sam thought he heard Bucky say something like I remember, but he could have been wrong. He didn’t want to ask Steve whether he heard the same thing or not, because the man was already put out enough having his brainwashed assassin best friend show up on his boyfriend’s doorstep in the middle of the night.

Sam first grabbed Bucky’s wrist to take his pulse, which was pounding harder than it should have been.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked quietly.

“I was a pararescue, remember? I do know basic medical care,” Sam said as he pressed the back of his hand to Bucky’s forehead: way too hot. “Shit, he’s running a fever. Go get my med kit – it’s in the bedroom closet on the right side of the upper shelf.”

Steve obeyed, returning wordlessly within 15 seconds.

Sam stuck the thermometer gently in Bucky’s mouth and held it in place under his tongue, because he knew Bucky was too out of it to do it for himself. While waiting for the temperature reading, Sam looked Bucky over more thoroughly. He was wearing dirty old clothing, possibly stolen or from a second-hand store. Or stolen from a second-hand store. His long dark hair was repulsively greasy, matted in some places. Skin was sallower than it should have been; yellower than his usual complexion; paler than should have been possible. Forehead was coated in a cold sweat. Whole body shivering slightly. Steve must have noticed too, because he was grabbing the fluffiest blanket in the house and bringing it over to Bucky as Sam made the observation.

Steve tucked the blanket tightly around Bucky as Sam read the thermometer. “101. Fuck. We gotta bring that down.”

“You have an assortment of fever reducers here, but they all say to ingest with food,” Steve said, sifting through the contents of the med kit.

“He’s also really dehydrated, and looks like he’s going through withdrawals or something. Go grab some Gatorade from the garage. You know where it is, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Why not just water, though? You know, more familiar?”

“We need to both rehydrate him and boost his electrolytes to give his system some semblance of fuel. I don’t think we’ll be able to get him to keep down any food, so Gatorade will have to do. After he drinks a bit, then we’ll give him some Tylenol to try to get that fever down.”

Steve left without a word, returning quickly with a tall glass of red Gatorade. While he was gone, Sam had taken off Bucky’s worn hiking boot-like shoes. As the overly-sweet smell of the drink hit Bucky’s nose, he groaned and curled further into himself.

“Shit, he looks like he’s going to be sick. Grab a plastic bucket from the garage and my electric razor, please.” Upon seeing Steve’s quizzical look, Sam elaborated: “I’d rather try to get this beard off of his face now than try to wash vomit out of it later – trust me, it’s a real bitch.”

“Why do you think he’s gonna be sick?” Steve asked, though not disagreeing.

“You mean besides ‘he just looks like it?’ If he was addicted to something, nausea and vomiting are common side effects of withdrawals, which he would definitely be having right now.” Steve nodded and left to collect the requested items.

He returned less than a minute later to find Sam kneeled down next to Bucky. “I don’t wanna give him anything yet,” Sam said warily. “Do you think you can talk to him? You know, see if he’s with us?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said as he made his way over to take Sam’s place at Bucky’s side. They both knew why it was a good idea to try talking to him first: if he freaked out at any point during his stay, he could easily kill both Sam and Steve accidentally.

“Hey Buck?” Bucky stirred, rolling his head to face Steve and just barely opening his eyes. “Hey, pal. Nice to see you,” Steve said in a strained voice, a pretty good fake smile plastered on his features. “We’re in Sam’s house in Washington DC,” he said, nodding towards Sam, who was sitting on the couch facing Bucky, playing with the spoon he had just retrieved from the kitchen. “We’re gonna try to take care of you, okay? Do you think you can try to drink some of this for me?” he asked, holding out the glass of Gatorade. Bucky carefully shook his head no, curling further into himself.

Sam tapped Steve on the shoulder with his spoon, and Steve takes it with a grateful smile. He dips it into the liquid, carefully bringing the spoon up to Bucky’s chapped lips without spilling a drop. “Just try a little bit,” he says gently. Bucky reluctantly parts his lips and lets Steve pour the spoonful of sugar water into his mouth. He forces himself to swallow. “Good, good,” Steve mutters. “Now Sam’s gonna shave your beard, okay? I’ll be right here talking to you the whole time.”

Steve shifted to give Sam a better angle from which to shave Bucky’s scruffy jaw. He whispered a litany of vague encouragements and praises into Bucky’s ear as Sam carefully began his work. Sam wiped Bucky’s jaw with a moist washcloth before gently tracing his hard jaw line with a razor quieted by the buffer of another washcloth. He worked smoothly and efficiently, mesmerizing Steve on more than one occasion. His jaw was half-clean shaven when Bucky doubled over, retching and dry heaving, but thankfully nothing came up. When he laid exhaustedly back down, Sam resumed his work, running the razor along sallow skin slightly more hastily than he had with the first half of Bucky’s face. He silently thanked god multiple times that he had an electric razor instead of one of those cheap drugstore razors he used when he was younger. If he learned one thing in the military, it was that life was too short to use a shitty razor every day.

Sam finished quickly, wiped Bucky’s face one last time with the moist washcloth, then went away silently to clean up a bit. Steve scooted down a little bit closer to Bucky’s mouth, and held up another spoonful of Gatorade that Bucky accepted slightly more willingly than the first.

“Give him a spoonful every three minutes or so,” Sam said upon re-entering the room, taking his seat again on the couch facing Bucky. Steve obeyed the doctor’s orders to the letter, keeping track of the time on the TV’s cable box, and talking about nothing to Bucky in between spoonfuls. After 15 minutes, Sam decided it was probably okay to give him some liquid Tylenol. Afraid that Bucky wouldn’t trust him, Sam had Steve hold the capful of the foul-tasting medicine to Bucky’s lips. He drank it just like he drank the Gatorade, but made a face after swallowing.

“Yeah, I know, it tastes pretty awful,” Sam said, taking the cup from Steve and rinsing it out in the kitchen adjoining the living room. Steve gave Bucky a sympathetic smile, and if he didn’t have to wait the extra 3 minutes between medicine and Gatorade that was suggested, well no one had to know.

After another fifteen minutes of the Gatorade routine, Bucky’s eyes started to flutter. The warmth of the blanket, relief of the medicine, and soothing tones of Steve’s voice proved to be too much for Bucky, who soon drifted into unconsciousness. Steve noticed his breathing even out into light snores and shot an inquisitive look over his shoulder at Sam. Should we wake him up? His eyes seemed to be asking.

“Let’s just let him sleep,” Sam said tiredly from the kitchen, where he was refilling the Gatorade. He looked over at the clock and wasn’t surprised to find that it was just after 11:30.

Steve sat down on the couch facing Bucky’s sleeping form and put his head in his hands. Sam set the Gatorade glass and plate with fresh toast down on the coffee table before joining him. He sat down gently, then put his arm around Steve’s shoulders for a brief side-hug before starting to rub his back in soothing circles.

“Oh God,” Steve said. “What’re we gonna do?”

“We are gonna take care of him,” Sam said matter-of-factly. As if it were the simplest thing on the planet.

“Sam, look at him! He looks like absolute shit. How can we take care of that?”

“The same way you take care of anyone,” Sam said with a small smile of encouragement. “Look, if I’m right, we just have to keep him hydrated. I would normally say we should take him to the hospital to get him checked out, but…”

“That would end terribly,” Steve said, giving Sam a look like he should know better.

“Yeah, that. Hey,” he said, making sure he had Steve’s attention, “we did all we can for now. We should probably get some sleep, see how he is in the morning.”

Steve sighed. “I guess you’re right. But I’m sleeping here with him.”

Sam smiled weakly. “I wouldn’t suggest anything else.” He laid down on the couch where they were sitting, swinging his feet behind Steve, holding his arm up and chest open. “Come here.”

Steve obeyed silently, intertwining their legs and pressing back into Sam’s strong chest, but maintaining the tension he had been holding in his shoulders since Bucky had shown up.

“You know, you will hear it if he wakes up,” Sam whispered. Steve nodded, and soon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Steve woke up in the dark to the sound of Bucky’s groaning. In an instant he’s out of Sam’s loose grip and kneeling by his side.

“Bucky. Bucky!” Steve whispered urgently. He touched his arm, which startled Bucky further awake. All his muscles tensed and he looked around wildly before he heard Steve’s voice. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. It’s Steve. It’s okay, you’re safe here.” Bucky’s eyes locked on Steve and he relaxed a little as he processed what Steve was saying. “Yeah, that’s it. Good. Everything’s fine.”

As Steve paused to take a breath, Bucky let out a moan that sounded suspiciously like “Steve.”

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m here.” Steve paused. “Hey, do you think you can drink some more?” Bucky nods weakly, but it still earns him a huge grin from Steve. “Good. Here,” he said, holding out a spoonful of now room temperature Gatorade. When Bucky swallowed, Steve said, “Good, good. How do you feel? Do you want some toast?”

Sam, who had walked up behind Steve while he was giving Bucky a drink, rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Let him breathe for a bit, Steve.” Sam got down on his knees, to Bucky’s eye level, before asking, “How do you feel?” Bucky gave a deliberating look for a second then shrugged. It wasn’t a groan, so it was a win in Sam’s book, but Steve didn’t seem any happier with his response. “Okay, good. We do need to try to get some food in you before we give you more of that medicine… Do you think you can stomach some toast?” Sam asked, holding out the plate of toast he had made earlier. Bucky looked at it for a second, then groaned and curled back into a ball.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice shook Bucky out of his misery. “How about you drink a little bit more, then you can have the medicine and go back to sleep?” Bucky groaned, but nodded a little. Steve decided to take that as agreement to the plan. Two spoonfuls of Gatorade later, Bucky swallowed the horrid-tasting medicine again, cringing a little less the second time than he had the first.

Bucky snuggled back into the covers, and reached out to grab Steve’s hand before closing his eyes. Steve sat next to him, thumb rubbing circles on the back of Bucky’s hand until Bucky’s labored breathing evened out into quiet snores. He lets go of Bucky’s hand, gently resting it by his pillow, then joined Sam on the other couch where he had been watching them.

Steve sighed as he sits down, but he doesn’t put his head in his hands this time. Sam counted that as improvement.

“We need to get him help,” Steve said simply. “I… I have an idea.” He pauses waiting for the go ahead from Sam. The raised eyebrow and questioning hand gesture must have been good enough for him, because he started again after a deep breath. “You know the Avengers, right? Most of them life in Tony’s “Avenger’s Tower” in New York City, and I have a, uh, standing invitation to go live there. I know Bruce lives there, and he is a doctor. Maybe… Maybe he’ll be able to help with, you know…”

After deliberating for a moment, Sam responded. “I’ve been awake half the night trying to think of some solution to this problem that we have, trying to think of what we should do. That… That’s the best plan we got,” he said as he levered himself upright. “How fast can you pack?”

“I can be ready to go in 15 minutes,” Steve said seriously.

Sam chuckled softly. “Figured as much. Let’s leave after sunrise, say around 6?” Steve nodded and turned to go pack. “Hey,” Sam called after him. “Can you pack for him too?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, continuing on his path to the bedroom.

Three hours later, the car was nearly full of all of their belongings. Neither of them knew just what they would need at the Avengers Tower, so they decided to play it safe and bring everything they could possibly need. The pair sat around the table finishing their big breakfast, courtesy of Sam. Steve finished his food first, and went to add the last bag to the car.

Opening the front door, though, Steve stopped short. There was a person on the doorstep. Not just a person…

“Natasha?” he asked, not believing his own eyes.

“Present and accounted for,” she said with a half-smile, holding up a stuffed duffle bag.

“I thought you said you had to go make some new covers,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin on his face. “That it would take a while.”

“It’s been 2 weeks, Steve,” she deadpanned. “That’s like forever in my book,” she said, her face cracking into a smile. Steve reached out and hugged her briefly, but when he let go her expression had changed. Clouded.

“You found him,” she said quietly.

“Found… Who, exactly?” Steve asked as Natasha brushed past him through the doorway, suitcase still in hand.

“Barnes,” she said, rounding the corner and seeing Bucky still passed out on the couch in the living room. “Shit,” she whispered. “One thing’s for sure,” she said looking back at Steve, “You’re still a terrible liar.” Natasha silently walked over to kneel by Bucky’s sleeping form. She stared at his relaxed features, obviously disturbed by his wan skin tone. Sam entered the room from the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes and wet hair, joining Steve where he was standing at the entrance to the living room.

“Hey Natasha,” Sam greeted her, obviously not surprised to see her in his living room.

“Did you know she was coming?” Steve asked him quietly.

“No,” Sam replied, “but it is kinda her style, actually both your style, to show up on my doorstep without any notice.” From her seat next to Bucky, Natasha smiled a little. “Steve, you wanna hop in the shower real quick? Traveling might be slightly more enjoyable if you’re clean.”

Steve nodded and muttered, “Uh, yeah, thanks,” as he turned and went to the bathroom.

“So,” Natasha easily breaks the silence, turning to lean her back against the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her hands on them. “How long has the runaway Russian assassin been here?” she asked. She tried to seem light-hearted, but Sam could see something akin to fear darkening her eyes.

“He showed up at our doorstep around eleven last night.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Our, huh? In that case, I’m happy for you, but how do you feel about this guy showing up?” she asked, jerking her head over her shoulder Bucky’s sleeping from behind her.

Sam sighed. “Surprised, to say the least. I’m happy he’s here, don’t get me wrong, but… God, something’s wrong with him, Nat. Like really wrong. And it’s making Steve even more apprehensive than normal.”

“I can see that. What do you think’s wrong with him?” Sam gave her a quizzical look, to which she responded, “Don’t gimme that look, I know you have at least a vague idea about what’s going on here.”

“My preliminary diagnosis? Dehydrated, malnourished, and going through withdrawals.”

“Withdrawals?”

“Yes. But I’m not an actual doctor, which is why Steve and I are bringing him to see one now.”

“You and I both know that could end very, very badly,” she said in a cautioning tone. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re going to New York to see Bruce, aren’t you?” Sam nodded. “Let me call him and tell him we’re coming, okay? I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Barnes’ first experience at the tower be that of Tony simultaneously yelling at us for not coming sooner and freaking out over his metal arm.”

“Probably a good idea,” Sam conceded after a moment of thought. “Want me to put your bag in the car while you do that?” he asked, gesturing to the bag sitting next to her.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, pulling out her phone. Sam grabbed her bag from her feet and the bag Steve had left in the kitchen as Natasha unlocked her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She found the right one and pressed dial, holding the phone up to her ear.

“Hey Bruce,” she said when the ringing ceased.

“Hi, Natasha,” Bruce’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Long time no see, or hear, I guess. What can I do for you?”

“I guess you know by now that I wouldn’t call you unless I needed your help, huh?”

“Well, SHIELD did collapse, and Steve did almost die, at least according to all the news sources I’ve seen, and you didn’t call to tell us about any of that while it was happening, so yeah. That much I know.”

“Sorry about that,” Natasha responded, smile audible over the phone. “I’ll explain when we get to the Tower. You’re still there, right?”

“Uh, yeah. When are you guys coming?”

“Listen, I have a situation here, and we need your medical expertise. But you have to promise not to freak out, okay?”

“What am I signing up for?” he asked somewhat sarcastically. “Who is it? Nat, what’s wrong?”

“Just…” Natasha paused, debating what she actually wanted Bruce to do. “Just make sure you see us before Stark does. I’ll let you know when we’re in the city. It’ll probably be in around 4 or 5 hours, okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Talk to you then,” Bruce said, obviously wanting more information, but Natasha not supplying any.

Steve came out of the shower with his own fresh clothes and dripping wet hair just as Natasha was hanging up her phone. “Who was that?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, that. Just Bruce,” she said, standing up agilely. “Ready to go then, Cap?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I told you not to call me that. And yes, I am ready. Where’d Sam go?”

“Present,” Sam said, walking in through the kitchen. “So I was thinking,” he began.

“Oh no,” Steve interrupted.

“As I was saying,” Sam continued, playfully shoving Steve’s arm. “How are we gonna get him into the car?” he asked, gesturing at Bucky’s now fitfully sleeping form on the couch.

Silence hung in the air for a moment as everyone thought about how to best get him into the car, without freaking him out.

“Steve, try to wake him up,” Natasha ordered. She stood back as Steve walked over and kneeled down by Bucky’s head, gently reaching out and touching his arm.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly. “Bucky, time to get up.” Bucky stirred, groaning a little and rolling partially onto his stomach. “We’re going to get you some help, okay? But you have to come with us. Here,” he said, grabbing a fresh water bottle from the coffee table and holding it out in front of him. “Drink some of this first.” Steve swiftly opened the bottle, and waited for Bucky to open his mouth. He didn’t trust the half-conscious man to swallow, directly from the bottle or from a waterfall, without choking, so he decided to just wet Bucky’s lips. Hopefully he could get enough water that way. When Bucky parted his lips, Steve poured a little water on them, waiting for Bucky to lick his lips before pouring any more.

“Good, good,” Steve said as Bucky swallowed. He set aside the water bottle, and stood up. “Do you think we can try to get you to sit up?” Bucky tried, struggling and grabbing Steve’s arm a little too tightly with his metal hand in an effort to right himself. Natasha helped push him up from behind, and Sam swung his legs around and planted them on the floor. “Alright, that was great, Buck,” Steve said with a smile on his face. “You’re doing great. Now Sam and I are going to help you up, okay? You do what you can, but don’t worry if you don’t feel like you’re helping us that much. It’s fine. We can carry you if we have to.”

With Sam on one side and Steve on the other, Bucky shakily stood up. Carrying most of Bucky’s weight, Sam and Steve made their way slowly to the front door. Natasha went ahead of them and held the door open while they limped their way out into the bright sunlight. After opening the car door, Natasha took Steve’s place at Bucky’s side while Steve went around through the other side of the car to make sure he was as comfortable when they were driving as he was on the couch. It took some work, but they finally got him more or less situated in the back seat, feet perched on his seat and head leaning against the window.

Steve did one last sweep of the house to make sure no one forgot anything, and Sam locked up behind him. Nat was resting her elbow on the hood of the car when Steve walked down the front steps.

“Steve. I would kill for a healing ability like yours,” she said out of the blue. Reading his questioning look, she continued. “Look at you, shot in the leg and the back two weeks ago, and here you are. Walking around without so much as a limp. Wish I could move my arm as freely as you walk.” Steve smiled weakly, passing her on his way to his passenger-side door. He knew she was trying to cheer him up a bit before what was bound to be a difficult trip, but his spirits didn’t feel that lifted.

Sam trotted down the steps over to the car. “Okay. 4 hours to New York City. Let’s go,” he said, closing the car door behind him after he sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Steve asked, looking for a distraction to keep him busy on their long trip.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sam said easily. “As long as you’re good with me picking the music.” They smiled at each other.

They ended up switching whose music choice it was every hour. The first hour was Sam’s choice, of course, then Steve’s, then Natasha’s, then the rest of the time was Sam’s again. No one had a problem with it being Sam’s turn so often, though, both because he was driving and because he had fantastic taste in music.

It was early afternoon by the time they got to the city. Natasha called Bruce when they were on the Brooklyn Bridge, and he gave her the garage code so they would have somewhere to park. Bucky stirred and stared out the window in awe as they entered the city. With every passing second, everything got whiter, every building got taller, and all the cars and taxis reflected more sunlight. He was thoroughly stunned when they pulled up to the tallest, whitest, shiniest building in sight and drove underneath it.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam drove towards the elevator, through rows of Stark’s incredibly expensive cars and strange assorted machines that looked like crosses between weapons and decorations. Luckily, there was a spot right next to the elevator, which Sam gladly took. Bruce was standing by the elevator bank when they pulled up. Steve and Natasha went over to greet him right away, Sam hanging back by the car and Bucky not having moved from his seat.

“Hey, Bruce,” Natasha greeted him with a quick hug. “Thanks for seeing us down here.”

“Yeah, no, not a problem. How’re you guys?” Bruce asked, somewhat hesitant of the strangers Steve and Nat had shown up with.

“Been better, to be honest,” Steve answered first. “You?”

“I’m… I’m fine, thanks. So what’s up?”

This time Natasha spoke first. “We’re in a bit of a sticky situation here, Doc. How much do you know about the collapse of SHIELD?”

Bruce answered carefully. “Not much, to be honest. Just what they covered on the news. Why?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Steve started.

“But to summarize,” Natasha interrupted, “HYDRA sent out a Russian assassin, the Winter Soldier, to kill Nick Fury, then he was tasked with killing Steve and me. Most of all, he was there to be sure that the insight helicarriers were launched. Those, by the way, were the huge helicarriers that the news showed crashing into the Potomac on the day of the collapse. Anyway, with the help of Sam over here, we put those helicarriers out of commission, and the Winter Soldier ran away from HYDRA. Turns out the Soldier is Steve’s best friend from the good old days, Bucky Barnes. They recognized each other when they were fighting, and Barnes showed up on the doorstep last night. The thing is-“

“He’s dying, Bruce,” Steve cut her off. “Like, he’s really sick. We didn’t know what else to do. “

There is a moment of silence as Bruce processes all the information he has just heard. “Okayyy. Let’s go take a look, shall we? What have you done for him already?”

Sam spoke up. “Took his vitals, got him to drink some Gatorade, and gave him some liquid Tylenol, which has worn off by now,” he said coming up to greet Bruce. “Sam Wilson, Doctor. It’s an honor.”

Bruce looked uneasily at Sam’s hand before shaking it. “Uh, okay, thanks.” He peered through the window at Bucky’s form, still slumped against the door. “How were his vitals?”

“Fever of 101 and an unusually and unnecessarily rapid heartbeat.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, mostly to himself, as he walked around to the other side of the car. He opened the door and sat down on the seat next to Bucky. “Hey, Bucky. My name’s Bruce. I’m here to help. Can I take you inside with me to check you out?” he asked gently. Bucky gave a slight nod. “Great.” Another pause. “Can you walk?”

Bucky tried to right himself, but somehow ended up hunched forward, bracing his head on the seat in front of him, panting.

“We tend to take that as a no, Doc,” Natasha said, opening the door on Bucky’s side. She stood back as Steve wrapped his arm under Bucky’s arms, and half-lifted him out of the car. As soon as he was able to, Sam took up his position on Bucky’s other side, trying to even out the weight distribution so Steve wasn’t carrying all of Bucky’s mass. Steve was, after all, still injured, even though he liked to pretend he was fine.

“Where’re we going, Bruce?” Steve asked as Natasha shut the door behind him.

“To the elevator, obviously, then to my lab,” he said, leading the way to the bright white marble elevator bank. The same elevator that Bruce had rode down in was still waiting for them, and he held the door open for Sam, Steve, and Bucky before he entered the elevator. As the elevator began to move, Steve noticed that the walls were actually screens, projecting images of nature on the walls like windows out into the wild.

Jarvis spoke as the elevator slowed to a stop: “Your lab, Doctor Banner.” Bucky jumped and looked around when he spoke, trying to find the other person in the elevator.

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Bruce said before explaining gently to Bucky. “That’s Jarvis. He’s an AI that runs the house. Don’t worry, though, he’s nice,” he said, trying to be reassuring, as the elevator doors opened to reveal his expansive lab. The walls were painted baby blue, and a wall and a half was floor-to-ceiling windows, incorporating the outside world into the room more so than Steve had seen with any of Tony’s other designs. There were beige tables everywhere, covered with shining scientific equipment.

Steve would have loved to go look around, to explore the intricate electronics and figure out exactly what Bruce spent all his time up here studying, but Bucky pulling against his grasp brought him back to himself. Bucky was thrashing around, trying to push himself as far back into the elevator as possible. His hyperventilation was audible, and his eyes were wild. Quickly, Natasha hit the elevator button for the garage again, and the doors slid shut.

No one said a word until they were back in the garage. “Jarvis, hold the elevator, please,” Bruce said as everyone filed back out into the garage. Bucky didn’t need any help walking around this time. In fact, he frantically paced around the only thing vaguely familiar to him in this strange new place: Sam’s car.

“What was that all about?” Bruce asked Steve, watching Bucky continue to pace quickly around the single car.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered helplessly. “He’s never done this before.”

They watched in silence as Bucky continued to pace around the car. After a few minutes, Sam went over to lean against the hood of the car, letting Bucky continue to pace around him. His presence seemed to help, because Bucky’s pace gradually slowed, until he parked himself in front of Sam and just stood there, looking at him.

The others waited with bated breath as Sam spoke. “Are you okay?” Bucky nodded slowly, and they let out their breath. “Would you be willing to get back in that elevator if I swore we weren’t going to go there again?” Bucky deliberated for a moment, then nodded somewhat reluctantly. “Okay then, one second,” Sam said, walking over to where the other three were standing, watching.

“Bruce, I think the lab setting triggered him. Like PTSD or anxiety trigger. It would make sense, given one of his arms is made of metal, his handlers would have done a lot of experiments on him,” the thought made Steve shudder, “None of which would have been pleasant. Is there somewhere else you could look at him? Somewhere that doesn’t look so… Clinical?”

Bruce thought for a moment, but before he could say anything, Steve spoke up. “I still have, like, a whole floor here, right? We could just use that.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, you do. I guess that could work. Sorry about that.”

Sam nodded, and Natasha spoke. “It’s not your fault, Bruce. You didn’t know. None of us knew.”

Sam went back over to Bucky, who was now leaning against the car, visibly straining to keep his breathing under control. “As I said, I swear we don’t have to go back to that place. There’s another floor, a nicer one, one like my living room back at home.” At least, Sam assumed it would be somewhat like his living room. He really, really hoped he was right in that account. “Or we could just stay here, if you want. It’s up to you.”

Bucky swallowed hard, obviously struggling in deciding how to proceed. He sucked in a deep breath and said, in a low tired voice, “Le’s go.” If Sam was surprised that Bucky had spoken, he disguised that surprise well. The others, on the other hand, stood there open mouthed for a few seconds. It took Bucky’s walking by them on his own towards the elevators to snap them out of it, and they followed at a respectful distance.

As the elevator doors closed, Natasha could see Bucky’s muscles tense, as if he were expecting danger as soon as the doors reopened. However, when the doors opened again, they saw a relatively normal looking living room. Sam was relieved to find that the living quarters Tony had set up for Steve did actually look somewhat like his house. Sure, it lacked personal touches and any of Steve’s old-fashioned design input, but it was much homier than Bruce’s lab had been. From the elevator, they could see a living area with dark couches on a light grey floor, a brand new TV, and a great view out the floor-to-ceiling windows covering the left hand wall.

Bruce stepped out of the elevator first, extending out an arm behind him in welcome. “Well, here it is. I know it’s not much, at least by Tony’s standards, but I have a feeling you’ll like it here,” he said, to Bucky and Sam as much as Steve as they exited the elevator. Bucky was the only one who flinched when the doors closed nearly-silently behind them. “So, Bucky,” Bruce said, causing Bucky to turn his attention away from taking in the huge room and forcing it back to the doctor. “Would you rather explore the floor and rest a bit, or get checked out right now. I know you had a long trip – you must be tired. I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want me to look at you right now, but just know it will have to happen sometime today.”

Bucky deliberated for a moment, then headed purposefully to the closest couch. “Now. Right here,” he said curtly.

“Alright, then. Perfect,” Bruce said amiably, pulling a small medical kit out of his jacket as he followed Bucky to his couch. He brought a side table with him: Tony had insisted was “super chic,” but really just looked like a cylinder of rock. Bruce didn’t really care, though, because they were tough enough that anyone in the tower could sit on one without breaking it. He sat down on it in front of Bucky and emptied the contents of his kit onto the floor between them. He had a thermometer, a stethoscope, a blood sugar counter, scissors, antiseptic, and a lot of gauze and wrappings. Bucky looked at the scissors warily, but Bruce tried to reassure him. “This kit has all sorts of stuff in it that I won’t end up using on you,” he said, starting to put away the wrappings and scissors. “They’re just in here cause Tony needs them a lot: you know, lab accidents and the like.

“I’m going to take your temperature again, and listen to your heartbeat. Is that okay?” Bucky nodded weakly, a sudden wave of sleepiness washing over him. He felt Bruce sticking a thermometer under his tongue, holding it there himself just like Sam did. After a few minutes he took it out, making a quiet noise of surprise that didn’t escape Bucky’s notice. The other three were trying to give them their space, still hanging back by the elevators, but Bucky, to his own surprise, would give anything to have them by his side right now.

Next Bruce put the stethoscope ear pieces in his ears, warming up the chest piece with his hand and a few quick breaths before putting it on the right side of Bucky’s chest. His face creased slightly in frustration. He adjusted the chest piece, but his frustration did not fade. “Bucky? Do you think we can take your shirt off? Just for a few minutes? I can’t seem to find a good angle this way,” Bruce asked.

Bucky couldn’t see why not, so he unbuttoned the flannel he was wearing and shrugged it off before peeling off his stained too-tight undershirt. He was surprised, to say the least, when everyone in the room stared at him once he was shirtless. Steve even sucked in a barely stifled gasp. Natasha’s eyes widened just barely, and Sam blinked hard. Bruce was the only one to maintain his composure. Not only was Bucky’s right shoulder swollen and hanging at an unnatural angle, but also the skin connecting the metal to his chest on his left side looked closer to dead than alive.

Of course, Bucky had known about his shoulder. He had tried to fix it, but it just wasn’t possible to re-locate your own shoulder. He thought that was the only thing people were worried about, so he waved his right hand a little, forcing a smile and saying, “See? Still works.” When the stifled looks of surprise didn’t fade from his caretakers faces, he began to consider that something else might be out of place. “Is… Is something wrong?” he asked Bruce, hoping dangerously hard that there wasn’t.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Bruce said with a tight smile. “Do you want me to continue with the stethoscope, or fix your shoulder first?” Bucky shrugged, and Bruce nodded. “Okay, I’m going to continue with the stethoscope. It’ll just take a few minutes, and that way I’ll get a more accurate reading. If I had just re-located your shoulder, your heart rate would probably be faster than normal, which is not what we want,” he explained.

Always true to his word, Bruce kept the rest of his examination short. He listened to Bucky’s heartbeat and lungs, careful not to touch either the dead-looking skin or the swollen muscles around the dislocated shoulder. When he was done, he passed Bucky one of the couch’s decorative pillows. “Bite down on this. I promise it’ll be over soon,” he said as he positioned his hands on either side of Bucky’s injured shoulder. At this point, Sam, Steve, and Natasha had migrated to the couch opposite of Bucky. Steve had to look away as Bruce started his countdown.

“On three,” Bruce said calmly. “One. Two,” Pop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, screwing up his face a bit and grunting in what Steve assumed to be pain when Bruce relocated his shoulder. “What happened to three?” Steve asked.

“If you wait too long, the patient gets too tense, and it’s harder to set the joint properly,” Sam said first.

Bruce smiled. “Yeah, that’s right. Also, it makes the patient feel like it’s over faster,” he said as he passed Bucky back his flannel. “So, Bucky, what can you tell me about how you’ve been feeling these past two weeks or so?” Bucky looked at him blankly, eyes barely noticeably bouncing between the four pairs of eyes watching him. At least, he thought it was barely noticeable. He had to reconsider when Bruce said quietly, “We can have this conversation alone, if you would prefer.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky said, his voice even quieter than Bruce’s. “Uh, the past two weeks have been sort of… Blurry. Felt sick to my stomach. Lots of shivering. Sweating even when it’s not hot. Haven’t been able to sleep, not ‘til I got to the house.” He scrubbed his face with his right hand. “Everythin’ hurt.”

Bruce nodded sympathetically. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” He stood up. “That’s the end of your check up. If you’re tired, I would suggest sleeping, but if you’re not, you’re more than welcome to explore this floor until I get back. I’m just going to go grab some medicine for you,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll be back before dinner at 7.” He looked at the other couch for some form of acknowledgement, which he got from Sam’s nod and Natasha standing up to accompany him to the elevator.

“What’s up, Doc?” she asked quietly when she thought they were out of Bucky’s hearing range.

“Exactly what Sam thought, I’m afraid,” Bruce said equally quietly. “Look, come see me in my lab when you can get away from here. You need to tell me all you know about what he’s been through, and what they may have used on him,” he whispered. “Be back soon,” he said at his normal volume as he stepped into the elevator.

“Kay,” Steve replied absently after the elevator doors had closed. To be fair, he was preoccupied. Bucky… Bucky had talked! Why hadn’t he talked to him last night? What did he remember? Bucky had to remember him, right? Otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up on his doorstep. Steve very much wanted to voice his concerns to Sam or Nat or Bruce or someone, but he knew what they would say. They’d tell him not to worry about it, and that Bucky would figure it out in time, and not to push Bucky when he’s in such a fragile state.

But Bucky had never been one for fragility. Growing up, it was always Steve who was the breakable one, Steve who needed taking care of, Steve who got sick all the time, who nearly died on multiple occasions but was stubborn enough to hold onto life and shake off whatever ailment afflicted him this time and live to see another day. No matter what, it was always Bucky who was the strong one, who took care of Steve, who never got sick, and if he did he never showed it, and who refused to be taken care of because he could do it all by himself. He could go to school and work at the docks and take care of Steve every long night that he needed to, he really could. Steve had always told himself that if the roles were ever reversed, he would take fantastic care of Bucky, as Bucky had done for him. But, now that he was put in a position to take care of Bucky, now the roles actually had reversed, he didn’t know what to do. Sure, he had a vague idea of how Bucky used to take care of him, but he didn’t have experience coming off an addiction to mind-altering drugs delivered by an organization of criminal masterminds.

Steve Rogers was way out of his league. Not that he would ever admit it.


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Natasha said, breaking Steve out of his thoughts that were bound to consume him if he didn’t surface soon. “Who wants to go explore the floor?”

Steve stood up without thinking, Sam mirroring his movements.

“I guess you two’ll go, then. I’ll stay here with Barnes,” Natasha said, sitting down on the couch they’d just stood up from.

Sam and Steve wandered off down the hall, not exactly sure what they were looking for, but reading Natasha’s message loud and clear: get out.

Bucky, who had lain down, opened his eyes when he heard their retreating footsteps, looking around briefly before locking eyes with Natasha.

“Did I know you?” he asked, brow furrowing.

Natasha paused, deliberating before answering. “I knew you, but I’m not sure if you’ll ever remember how you knew me.” She sighed lightly. “It might be better for you, easier, if I don’t tell you. The way in which we met was… It would be triggering for both of us to relive, and I’d rather not go there.”

Bucky nodded, at least as much as he could whilst lying down. “It’s just… You look so familiar, and I can’t figure out why,” he said, voice betraying frustration he had wiped from his features.

“I’ll tell you what,” Natasha said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “If you really want to know a few weeks after we get you on those meds Bruce’s bringing up, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky nodded again, looking slightly more satisfied with that response.

Steve and Sam returned then, marching down the hall in unison, wearing satisfied expressions. “There’s a ton of space back there,” Sam said excitedly. “There's, like, five bedrooms, and as many bathrooms, all decorated differently.

“Pepper must have done the decorations,” Steve added, “Because there is no way Tony would have made my floor look this nice.”

Natasha nodded, “Probably true. Was there a bedroom in particular that this one would like?” she asked, nodding towards Bucky, who had closed his eyes when he heard Sam and Steve approaching.

“Should we go light or dark?” Sam asked, “Cause two that I saw specifically reminded me of him, but which one we put him in for now depends on whether we think he’d do better in a lighter or a darker room.”

“I say we go darker, as he did better in this room as compared to Bruce’s lab, and this room’s darker than the lab was,” Natasha said after some thought. “Steve?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sounds good,” Steve said distractedly, staring at Bucky’s pretend-sleeping form on the couch. “God, is he asleep? I don’t want to wake him if he is, but I’d rather he sleep in a bedroom,” he said nervously.

Just then, Bucky stirred, stretching out his shoulders a little as he sat up and looked around. Even if he was coming off of some serious drugs, he could still pick up on social cues, Natasha noted. She considered that an improvement.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, walking around the couch to crouch down in front of him. “Wanna go get into bed?”

Bucky nodded, reaching out his right arm to put on Steve’s shoulder under the pretense of helping himself up.

“Come on, we’ll show you the way,” Sam said when the pair reached where he was standing.

It didn’t take long to get Bucky settled in bed, relief washing over Steve when he seemed perfectly at home in the dark room. When Sam and Steve went back to the living room, Natasha was zipping up Steve’s suitcase, Bucky’s file on the couch next to her.

“What do you need that for?” Steve asked, a little miffed that she would take his things without permission. But, then again, he wasn’t actually surprised.

“Bruce needs it,” she replied simply.

“What’d he say?” Sam asked as he sat down on the couch opposite to her.

“He said you’re right. Barnes’s coming down from something, and he needs to know what. This file probably says what that something is. Now, if you boys’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go see Bruce in the lab. Talk about what they did to him.”

“You already know what they did to him?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I like having outstanding debts, and I don’t like using multiple just to get a file. When I was picking up the file from one of my associates, he told me more about what they did to him. Stuff that isn’t in the file.”

Steve looked at her in annoyance, calling her bluff with his expression.

“Fine, I read the file before I gave it to you,” she relented. “But I do know a little more than what the file says. Speaking of which, you’ll get it back. I’ll just have Bruce make a copy.”

Steve sighed. “Fine. Just go. Be ready to tell us what he said when you come back.”

Natasha stood, smiling a little. “On it, cap.”

Steve rolled his eyes as she walked towards the elevators. As soon as the elevator doors close behind her, Sam leaned over and gave Steve a gentle kiss on the forehead. He then pulled Steve into as much of a hug as he could manage while they were seated on the couch. Steve buried his face in Sam’s neck, letting out a shaky sigh.

“You do know he’s going to be okay, right?” Sam asked quietly, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Steve nodded into Sam’s neck, taking another shaking breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“Wanna turn on the TV?” Sam asked, trying to get Steve to focus on something besides his best friend in the other room.

Steve nodded again, finally releasing his hold on Sam. “Jarvis? Can you turn on the TV, please?”

“Nothing too heavy, please,” Sam requested as the TV came to life.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said as the Simpsons came on.

Neither Sam nor Steve particularly liked the Simpsons, but they were willing to put up with it, especially after such a long and draining day. They curled up in each other’s arms and half-watched the cartoon, half dozed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha flipped through the file again on her elevator ride. She looked more nervous than her careful composure normally allowed. When the elevator stopped one floor before it should have, she schooled her expression just before the doors opened to reveal Tony Stark.

“Have you been living here and I haven’t noticed?” he asked as he strode in the elevator from his lab. “You know where I’m going, Jarvis,” Tony said as the elevator started moving again.

“Hello, Stark,” Natasha said coolly.

“What’s up with the file?” Tony asked, never one for small talk. “Wait, you work for Pepper and you’re coming to assault me with paper work again, aren’t you?” he asked as the elevator opened to reveal Bruce’s lab.

“We all know how well that worked last time. I’m on my way to see Bruce, obviously,” she said as they stepped out of the elevator.

“Well, I am too. Dibs on first. Now, what could my best assassin friend possibly need from my best scientist buddy?” Tony asked, causing Bruce to look up from his work on the other side of the lab.

“Tony! Natasha! Come on over,” he called as he stood up from his lab stool, where he had been bent over an abnormally large microscope.

“You’ve got a file on him,” Bruce said when he noticed what Natasha was carrying. He held his hand out to take it from her. “Hey, Tony, could you come back later? I’ve got to help Natasha for a bit first.”

“It’s kind of urgent,” Natasha added, trying not to be smug.

“Uh, no. I’m not coming back later. I’ll wait right over here,” Tony said obstinately, pulling out his Stark Phone and sitting on the lone couch he insisted Bruce keep in his lab.

“Okay, sure,” Bruce said after Natasha nodded, signaling that Tony staying was okay with her. “Let’s take a look at this,” Bruce said, leading Natasha over to his computer.

“That’s going to be pretty difficult unless you read Russian,” Natasha said as he opened the file.

“That is true,” Bruce said, flipping through the file. “I don’t really have any idea what this says, but pictures speak a thousand words.” He paused, looking through the photos provided. “They cryo froze him? Oh, wow,” he said absently. “Okay, I admit I need help. Can you read me just the medical parts of things? This looks like more than just what was done to him, and I already have a vague idea of what he has done. I don’t need anymore of that.”

Natasha nodded, accepting the file when he held it out to her. “It says a lot about how many times they froze him and what he did in between the freezes, but you said that wasn’t what you needed to know. Here’s something about wiping him between missions… You wanna hear that?”

Bruce nodded, pulling out a notebook to take notes.

“Okay… They basically figured out a way to wipe his memory clean via electroshock therapy when he got to be too much to handle. Towards the end, they ended up doing it in between every mission, sometimes multiple times a day. That can’t be healthy,” she added.

“You’re right about that,” Bruce agreed. “What else does it say? Anything about the drugs they used on him?”

“Yeah,” she said, scanning the article. “Here… I’m not sure if I’m translating this right, but it says something about benzodiazepine? That’s not exactly what they used, but it seems to be the basis for whatever drug they produced.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bruce said. “Not happy, but not surprised either,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought.

“What is it?” Natasha asked.

“It’s a drug, obviously, administered through IV, with lots of different properties. It’s anxiolytic, hypnotic, anticonvulsant, amnestic, and myorelaxant, but some of the more paradoxical side effects include aggression, violence, and anterograde amnesia.”

“Come on, Bruce, I don’t speak medical. Could you speak English? Or any other language besides medicine?”

“Yeah, sorry. Basically the drug was intended to reduce anxiety and convulsions, while acting as a sedative and muscle relaxant. It also probably affected his memory, especially if they used it on him for an extended period of time. He also may have developed anterograde amnesia, which means he is now unable to form new memories, so we should look out for that. Also, withdrawal from the drug can lead to both anxiety and depression, so I would suggest trying to create and sustain normal human relationships with him, just to give him some support to fall back on when he needs it.”

“Theoretically, they could have used some seriously high doses of one of the shorter-acting derivatives to induce amnesic-dissociative actions,” Bruce thought out loud. He noticed Natasha’s searching look, and translated again. “If they used a certain form of it, the kind that would dissociate his actions from himself so he wouldn’t know what he was doing, then he’ll come off of it faster.”

Natasha nodded. “There is some stuff in here about experiments on him in the 40’s,” she said as she flipped through the file. “Some sort of super-serum? Not nearly as advanced as Steve’s was, obviously, but that’s what both Steve and the Russians think saved him from freezing after he fell.”

“I never did hear the story,” Bruce said, looking up at Natasha. “What happened to him? How’d he get here?”

“Those are two very different questions, Bruce. I assume you’re asking about pre-war and during World War II stuff?” Bruce nodded, and Natasha continued. “Okay. General overview that I know Steve will probably never give you. James Buchanan Barnes was drafted into the US army in mid 1942, into the 107th infantry. A few months after landing in Europe, his unit was captured by the Germans, HYDRA to be exact, and kept in labs about 30 miles from the warfront. Much like Hitler did to the Jews, HYDRA experimented on the foreign troops they captured, Barnes included.

“Zola, the head scientist, seemed to be trying to recreate the serum Dr. Erskine used on Steve, and had tested on several other soldiers before pulling Barnes into his lab. Records show that Barnes had been injected with this serum, though it doesn’t say exactly what the serum consisted of, and they were waiting for it to take full effect so they could record his reaction when Steve snuck into the base and broke all the prisoners out. After they broke out, no one knew exactly what had been done to Barnes, and he never talked about it, so no records were created then either.

“We really don’t know what the serum did to him, but we can assume that it helped him survive falling out of a moving train and off a cliff into a snow bank in the Swiss Alps. People who’ve contributed to this file tend to think that it increased his metabolism, similarly to how it affected Steve’s, and heightened his body’s survival instincts. If there were ever any tests on him, though, they weren’t recorded. At least, not in his file. And, given that the Russians considered he himself an experiment, I’m guessing if they’re not here, they’re not anywhere. That enough info for you?”

“Plenty,” Bruce said, nodding slowly while he processed all Natasha had just unloaded on him. “You got anything else that would be useful to me?” he asked.

“Maybe. Probably not, though.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded again, still thinking. “Mind if I call Tony over and tell him about our issue?”

“Not at all,” Natasha said. “He’s gonna have to find out eventually.”

“Thanks,” Bruce smiled. “Tony,” he called, “We know you’ve been listening in, come over here and help me think.”

“Listening in? Who, me?” Tony asked, poorly feigning innocence. “Fine,” he relented and stood up. “I did miss most of the medical speak, but I got Natasha’s story,” he said as he grabbed the folder from Bruce’s hands as if he could read it. “What’d they give him?”

“A BZD derivative,” Bruce said.

“Fuck, they weren’t messing around,” Tony said, sounding almost impressed. “Where is this guy, anyway? It would help to take a blood sample, see how much’s still in his system.”

“Downstairs,” Natasha said. Judging by Tony’s furrowed brow, he hadn’t been expecting that particular response. “And blood test is out of the question.”

“Why is it out of the question? Especially if he’s in my tower already?” Tony asked obstinately.

“Because we’ve already seen signs of severe PTSD, and since they gave him these drugs through an IV, he almost definitely has a phobia of needles,” Natasha informed him.

“Also, when we brought him to this lab, he totally freaked out,” Bruce added.

“Wow, you guys don’t tell me any of the good stuff!” Tony complained. “Okay, blood test is a no. Any other ways to get cells? Can I visit him?”

“Probably not a good idea just yet,” Natasha said. “Not only is he sleeping right now, but you’ll totally freak out when you see him.”

“No I won’t!” Tony leapt to his own defense. “Okay, maybe. Why would I?”

“He has a metal arm,” Natasha said simply, before Bruce could try to sugar coat it.

“He has a… A what? A metal arm? That’s fucking sick! I need to get my hands on that thing! Oh, I wonder how it works,” Tony started rambling.

“See, this is why you can’t see him yet. You have to be calm when you’re around him, and he seems to be both protective of and unsure of his robotic arm, so it’s probably best if we wait a while before discussing it. Definitely wait a while before tinkering with it,” Bruce said.

Tony sighed in frustration. “Fine. What’re we gonna give him?”

“I was hoping you would tell me, though I’m not sure why I thought that,” Bruce said as he went back to his microscope. “I was looking at some of his cells earlier, and I’d just figured out what dye to put in the sample to color only the BZD particles when you two came in. It’s been fermenting since then, and it should be dark enough to see now.” He focused his microscope.

“Well?” Tony asked, impatient with the slow science that was biology.

“There,” Bruce said when he finally focused and zoomed in on the cells. “Huh. Okay. I’m not sure. Tony, why don’t you take a look,” he offered, leaning back to give Tony access to the eyepiece.

“Where’d you get the cells?” Natasha asked when she had Bruce’s attention for a moment.

“Off the thermometer. There weren’t many, but there were enough.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m seeing what you’re seeing, Bruce, but it sure is weird.”

“Can I take a look?” Natasha asked.

“Sure,” Bruce said, pushing Tony away from the microscope. “The blue specks are the BZD, and everything else is bodily tissue,” he told her as she looked into the specimen.

“But… There’s hardly any blue specks,” she said. The slide had a pretty good number of cells on it, but zoomed in as far as the microscope was, she could see just three or four on one slide. There were maybe one or two specks of blue within each cell, but she wasn’t sure what there was supposed to be.

“I know, isn’t it fascinating?” Bruce asked from behind her.

“Yeah, I guess. What does it mean?” she asked, still unclear about what she was looking at.

“Well, I was expecting a whole lot more BZD to be in his system – enough to make all the cells almost completely blue. He was nearly constantly exposed to the drug, but judging by the evidence in his cells, it looks like he took it once, maybe a month and a half ago. There’s barely a concentration, much less the saturation that I expected given the timeline! How long did you say he’d been off the drugs?” he asked, looking through the microscope again, as if the specimen could have changed again.

“Assuming they gave him a dose just before he came to kill Steve and me, about 15 days. Why?”

“Holy shit,” Bruce said, quietly. “Natasha, this concentration should be much higher than it is right now if he’s only been off it for 15 days. Given the amount that we think they gave him, especially given the repetition with which he took the drug, his cells should be nearly saturated.”

“Timeframe wise, he should be entering the worst part of his withdrawals right now,” Tony interjected. “But concentration-wise, the worst part should be over and he should be getting better fast. Like, a day or two and he’ll be feeling normal again fast.”

“Do you know much about his condition before you brought him here?” Bruce asked. “Any anxiety, depression, depersonalization, hypersensitivity?”

“You know as much as I know, Doc. All I know besides what he told you is that all he did at Steve and Sam’s was throw up and sleep. And drink a little Gatorade, but it wasn’t that much.”

“Okay. Oh wow,” Bruce said, eyes widening in an epiphany when he looked at Tony. “He… He went through the worst of the withdrawals as a homeless person in DC. Damn, the residual anxiety is not going to improve because of that.”

“Shit,” Tony said, eyes widening with the same epiphany. Of course, Tony knew what his panic attacks were like, and they weren’t fun. He couldn’t imagine going through one of those while coming off of some serious drugs and living homelessly in America’s capital, which has never been known as a welcoming city to anyone, much less homeless people. “How’d this guy do it?”

“No idea,” Bruce said, sounding lost.

“Any person who can do that should be considered a threat.” Tony said. Natasha was about to object when he continued, “Unless we can befriend him first. That would be ideal.”

“I agree,” Natasha said before Tony could continue blabbering. “Friend is definitely better than enemy, especially cause Steve really likes this guy.”

“Again, friend is ideal,” Tony nodded.

“Look, I’ve gotta get back to Tony and Sam, they’re going to be wondering where I am. I’ll tell them what you told me Bruce. But before I go, is there anything you can do for Barnes?”

“Just make him comfortable, and finish waiting it out,” Bruce said with a shrug. “There’s nothing we can really do for him. Sorry.”

“I have some anxiety meds if things get really bad,” Tony interjected. Bruce gave him a dirty look, but he just shrugged. “What? If his system can rid itself of BZD that quickly, I’m not worried about hurting him. It might not even help, but it’s worth a shot if he really needs it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I think we’ll be okay. Thanks for your help,” Natasha said, turning around to leave.

“Wait, who’s Sam?” Tony called after her.

She turned to face Tony before answering. “Sam Wilson, ex-pararescue, current ally and boyfriend to our dear Captain America. Helped Steve and I bring down the SHIELD/HYDRA helicarriers. Has a suit you’d really like. Actually, I’ll send him up here with his blueprints, you’ll love them.” She spun on her heel again, heading towards the elevator.

Natasha heard Tony complaining about what had happened to the helicarriers as she entered the elevator. “And they destroyed my engines, Bruce. My babies! All gone! A complete wreck in the Potomac! And now they’re all staying in my tower? I can’t condone tha-“ The closure of the elevator doors cut off the rest of his rant.

She sighed as the elevator started moving, trying to get her thoughts in order so she would only tell Sam and Steve what they absolutely needed to know. She would have been willing to share more with Sam than with Steve, but she knew how much of a softie he was; he would tell Steve everything she told him.

Natasha stepped out of the elevator to find Sam and Steve dozing on the couch, TV on some ridiculous cartoon that she hadn’t seen before. She decided to go check on Bucky before waking them, because judging by their positions, they hadn’t done so for quite some time.

After walking down the hallway silently, she opened the door as quietly as she could, but it still made Bucky shoot up in bed, eyes wild, expecting an attack that wasn’t going to come. Well, he was sleeping, Natasha thought to herself as she raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Shhhh, Bucky, it’s just me. It’s Natasha,” she said, moving slowly to turn on the light.

Recognition dawned across Bucky’s eyes and he relaxed a little, assuming his normal slightly hunched posture. “May I come in?” Natasha asked, still hovering in the doorway. Bucky nodded, and she moved barely inside the doorway, leaning on the chest of drawers right next to the doorframe. “How do you feel?” she asked politely. Bucky shrugged in response, eyes never leaving hers.

“I just got back from seeing Bruce, the doctor, and I was going to go tell Sam and Steve what he said. Do you want to know?” she asked, carefully phrasing her question. He nodded after a little deliberation, which told Natasha that he didn’t want to know too much. “Do you want me to tell you with Sam and Steve, or alone?”

There was less of a pause before he answered this time: “Alone,” Bucky said in a raspy voice.

“Alright. I’m just going to tell you now, okay?” Natasha waited for him to nod before she continued. “Sam was right: the people who took you did drug you, and that’s what’s caused most of your problems. But your system has flushed most of the drugs out now, which means the worst of your pain is over. You should feel at least okay soon,” she said simply, deciding to hold back on the details unless he asked about them specifically. However, judging by his furrowed brow and slightly pursed lips, he was having trouble processing just that information. “Do you understand?” she asked as caringly as she could, as to not sound patronizing or authoritative.

Bucky nodded slowly, and they sat in silence for a bit. He curled into a ball. “You going to be okay if I go to the living room now?” Natasha asked quietly. He nodded again. She hesitated for a second before leaving the room, ensuring that she audibly shut the door behind her.

Natasha strolled into the living room and shook Steve’s shoulder to wake him up.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, sitting up and rubbing his bleary eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong, per say,” Natasha said as she sat down on the couch opposite of Steve and Sam. “But we do need to talk.”

“5 more minutes,” Sam mumbled into the pillow.

“No. Actually, you should be in Tony’s lab in 5 minutes, so you better start waking up,” Natasha said. Steve pulled Sam into something that resembled a sitting position. “You boys ready to listen?”

“Yeah. What’s up?” Steve asked, waking up quicker than Natasha had expected.

“Mmhmm,” Sam said rather sleepily, following Natasha’s expectations exactly.

“Come on, Sam, this information’s mostly for you. Bruce said you were right: Barnes was drugged by HYDRA. The withdrawals from those drugs were what caused him to get so sick, the worst of which he went through alone. Therefore, we should expect a lot more triggers than we’ve already found. We have to be careful.”

“Which drugs?” Sam asked, really trying to wake up even more.

“BZD derivatives? I don’t know what that means, but it’s what Bruce said.”

That woke Sam up. “Holy fuck. That’s some heavy-duty shit.” He paused. “Wait, you said he went through the worst of it alone?”

“Yes… Why?” Natasha asked slowly.

Sam sighed. “The symptoms of withdrawal normally don’t even manifest until three or four days after the drug usage has stopped, and normally symptoms escalate for up to two months before beginning to fade. It hasn’t been nearly that long yet.”

“Look, go talk to Bruce. He said that the concentration of the drug in his cells was consistent with that of someone whose withdrawals had almost ceased, at least biologically speaking. He didn’t really talk about psychological withdrawals. Since he was being forced to take the drugs, I think he assumes that there will be no psychological effect, but we have to be prepared for one. Steve, you with me?” Natasha asked, noticing that Steve hadn’t said anything for a while. He was staring at the empty space on the couch next to Natasha, a far-off look in his eyes.

“Steve,” Sam said gently, rubbing his shoulder. “You okay?”

“What?” Steve asked, coming out of his daze and looking at his friends. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. What do we need to do, Nat?”

Natasha smiled slightly when answering. “Sam, you need to go grab your suit blueprints and go to Bruce’s lab. Tony should still be there – give him the blueprints - and that way you can ask Bruce all your questions about Bucky’s condition.” She waited for Sam to get up before continuing. “Steve, you and I need to figure some stuff out. We should look up withdrawal symptoms for BZD derivatives, just to make sure we’re prepared for what could come, and to double check and make sure that nothing else is going on with him, something that doesn’t have to do with withdrawals.” Steve nodded slowly, and watched the elevator doors close behind Sam before making any move to act on his orders.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve shook his head, as if waking himself up, and stood up. “How do we want to do this?”

Natasha stood up too. “We should grab some computers that Stark has definitely hid on this floor, or tablets, whichever floats your boat, and bring Barnes out here so we can ask him questions as needed.”

“Bring him out here? Are you sure he’s awake?” Steve asked nervously.

“Trust me. He’s awake,” Natasha replied, walking towards the hallway. “You wanna get Bucky and I’ll grab a couple laptops?”

“How…. How about you go get him. I wouldn’t know what to say.” Steve said self-deprecatingly. “Do you want a laptop or a tablet?”

“Laptop,” Natasha said. She turned again and went into Bucky’s room. She thanked whatever forces that had made Steve decide he didn’t want to get Bucky, because he might have had a mental breakdown. Bucky was nowhere to be seen on first glance, sheets pushed down to the end of the bed and comforter and pillows were gone. Natasha looked around the dresser, which had been moved roughly a foot from the last time she was in the room, and found him nesting in a variety of blankets and pillows.

“Hey,” Natasha said quietly, crouching down about six feet in front of him.

“Hi,” Bucky said after a pause.

“This’s a nice nest you’ve got here,” she said, cogs of her mind whirring in an attempt to come up with something to get him out of the room. “Wanna help me build one in the living room?”

“Why?” he asked coldly.

“Well, we’d like to see you occasionally,” she said. “And if this is where you feel most comfortable, then we can accommodate that. But I’d like you to help me make it, so I know that you’re comfortable in it, and that you like it. Okay?”

Bucky nodded and accepted the hand Natasha was holding out. After she helped him up, Natasha led him out to the closet next to his room. It was fully stocked with extra pillows and blankets, and Bucky’s face lit up a little. She took about half of them, leaving the rest for Bucky’s room, and went to the living room. Steve was already there, set up on the couch and typing away on his laptop, Natasha’s sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Come on, Steve, we need your help,” Natasha said, tossing her armful of blankets and her laptop onto the couch next to him.

“With… What, exactly?” he asked, looking between Natasha and Bucky with a quizzical expression.

“Moving the coffee table. We’re making a pillow fort,” Natasha said as if it were obvious.

“Um… Okay? Sure.” Steve said, standing up. “Where’re we going to put it?”

“Oh, by the elevator, probably,” she answered with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes, but picked up his side of the table anyway. Between the two of them, they easily maneuvered the glass coffee table right next to the elevator, leaving just enough room for someone to exit it.

“Alright, Bucky. Now we have the space. Let’s get building,” Natasha said, a childish smile playing on her lips.

Bucky nodded seriously, and started stripping the cushions from the couch. “Are there any more couches?”

“Probably,” Natasha and Steve said simultaneously.

Steve’s face lit up with an epiphany. “We should use our mattresses!” he exclaimed. Upon seeing Natasha and Bucky’s confused looks, he explained. “We rarely use them anyway, between the sleeping on the floor, the couch, and not sleeping at all. I say we move the couches out of the way a bit more, bring all the mattresses in here, and make a huge room that way.”

“Or there are couches in other rooms, too. We could use those cushions, if that’s what you want,” Natasha added.

Bucky thought for a minute. “Mattresses. But leave the one in my room alone.”

“Done,” Steve said with a smile. 10 minutes later, six mattresses were piled up by the coffee table, and Natasha and Bucky had made enough room between the couches to fit them all. Why Tony had equipped Steve with seven bedrooms on his floor, the world will never know, but Steve was definitely happy about it. Bucky and Natasha had also started bringing couch cushions from the other rooms to add to the pile of softness. Steve didn’t even want to count how many pillows they had: it was slightly terrifying.

“This is going to be great!” Natasha exclaimed, excited in a way Steve hadn’t ever seen from her before. Even Bucky cracked a smile, dragging the first mattress between the couches.

Sam walked in, nearly tripping over the coffee table, when they were starting to cover the mattresses with blankets. “What’s going on here?” he asked, standing behind the couch, careful not to mess up any of their careful work.

“We’re nesting,” Natasha said with a smile, dropping an armful of throw pillows onto the mattresses.

“Pillow fort-ing,” Steve said as he tossed his armful of blankets on top of the pillows.

“Nah, that ain’t a pillow fort. Forts require some semblance of walls and a roof,” Sam said.

“That’s a good idea. We should do that,” Bucky said, heading down the hall to grab more blankets. Natasha was nice enough to leave his bedroom in tact, with some extra blankets and pillows in the corner, but he didn’t think he was going to need them.

“How’re we going to cover this whole thing?” Steve asked incredulously, gesturing to the expansive pile of cushions in front of him.

“I think we’re going to have to make it half-covered, half uncovered,” Natasha said. “And I know just what to cover it with.”

Sam and Steve both raised their eyebrows, but if Natasha noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it. She took off down the hall, nearly crashing into Bucky as he came in with more blankets and pillows. “What’s with her?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Sam said. “She said she had an idea…” he trailed off as Natasha came back down the hall, some sort of fabric trailing for quite a ways behind her.

“What is that?” Steve asked, utterly confused.

“Not sure what it is, you’d have to ask Stark about that, but it does seem wide enough to cover at least one row of mattresses,” Natasha said. She put one side over one couch, then unfolded it easily to cover the mattresses and still tumble onto the floor over the back of the other couch.

“Wait, I know how to fix this,” Sam said. He began bringing tall chairs from the counter in the kitchen to the living room/pillow fort. After his second trip, he passed two of the chairs to Natasha. “Okay, we have to pull the sheet-thing taught between the chairs. Pin the corners down with the chair legs,” he said as Natasha walked around to the back of the couch opposite him. “The side by the elevator first.”

A few seconds later, their pillow fort was “legit,” according to Sam, because it had a roof and walls. After securing the roof, Natasha and Sam sat on the edge of the mattresses, by the TV, to look at their masterpiece. Someone had brought an extra couple of couches from the extra rooms and put them where the chair had been before, effectively making a U-shape out of the couches. They’d also decided to keep the cushions on the couches in the living room, someone could sit there if they wanted to (but no one thought they would).

“I think we did pretty well,” Steve said, sitting down next to Sam while Bucky sat down next to Natasha.

“I think so,” Natasha said with a smile. She looked around at her boys sitting next to her, and smiled a little bit brighter.

“Agreed,” Bucky said, leaning slightly on Natasha.

“The roof completes it,” Sam said jokingly. Looking around the fort, though, he thought it might just be a good pillow fort without the roof, but he would never admit it. Everywhere was soft, the mattresses covered with blankets, sheets, and pillows piled so high that he couldn’t see a mattress. Whoever had decorated Stark’s tower was a genius: they had made all the rooms have a different color scheme, so when they threw all the pillows and blankets together it made a rainbow fort. Sam loved it.

“This place needs a name,” Steve said after a moment of silence.

“The best pillow fort ever,” Sam suggested, laughing.

“The pillow room,” Bucky said.

Natasha thought before answering. “Yeah, I like the pillow room. It has class.”

Sam nodded enthusiastically.

 

Steve laughed. “Well, then, pillow room it is.”

“Well, what should we do now?” Natasha asked.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you guys,” Sam said suddenly. “Tony invited us up for dinner tonight.”

“Where?” Steve asked, thinly veiled suspicion audible.

“He said the living room… I’m not sure what that means, though,” Sam said.

Natasha looked at Bucky. He didn’t look too thrilled about the idea. In fact, he looked like he was at the beginnings of another panic attack. “I’ll go tell Stark that we’re going to eat down here tonight,” Natasha said. She stood up smoothly. “In the mean time, Sam, let’s turn on something fun to watch.”

Sam nodded, understanding her meaning: find something that won’t send Bucky into another panic attack. Something trigger-less. “Will do,” Sam said with a smile. “Jarvis, what do we have movie-wise?”

The AI had begun to list Stark’s extensive media list when Natasha left the room.

“Where’s everyone else?” Tony asked when Natasha exited the elevator alone at the living room level.

“Aye, I was very much excited to meet the man with the metal arms and the man who could fly as well,” Thor said, looking somewhat sad.

“This is too much for him during his first night of being a human being again,” Natasha said simply. “I’m just here to bring down some food for us.”

“You mean like all of it, don’t you? I know how much Steve eats,” Tony complained. “Luckily, I was prepared.”

“You were prepared? You mean I was prepared, and willing to make enough spaghetti to feed a small country,” Clint said, emerging from the kitchen. “Hey, Nat. You’re going to have to figure out a way to get it to Steve’s floor, cause it’s just in a pot right now.”

“Nooooo, I wanna keep my pot,” Tony whined. “It’s my pot and you can’t take it. Go get your own.”

“The food’s in this one, and by the looks of it, you guys already ate,” she replied, gesturing to the empty bowls littering the tables where Tony, Bruce, and Thor were sitting.

“She’s got a point,” Bruce said. He set down what had to be his second bowl and smiled at her. “Just take the rest, we’re done.”

“Speak for yourself!” Clint exclaimed from the kitchen. He came out again moments later, carrying another bowl of pasta.

“Clint, that’s your fourth bowl. You were done two bowls full, now you’re just trying to make yourself sick,” Bruce said with an attempt at a reprimanding tone.

“If you and your company require sustenance, please take ours,” Thor said.

“Thank you, Thor,” Natasha said. She went to the kitchen and grabbed the two pots, struggling a little to pick up both ridiculously large containers at the same time. “We’ll come up and see you guys sometime tomorrow,” she said as she walked towards the elevator, arms full of food.

“Fine,” Tony relented exasperatedly.

Natasha entered the elevator without another word, and heard Thor starting to talk as the doors shut behind her. The boys looked at her when the doors dinged open again on Steve’s level, and Bucky’s jaw dropped. “Is all that for us?” he asked incredulously.

“As much as we can eat, yes,” Natasha said, setting the pots down on the counter. “Come on, boys, you can get your own dinner,” she said in a slightly mocking tone, bringing the others to her side in seconds.

“What’d we decide to watch?” she asked as they sat down on the uncovered section of the couch to eat dinner.

“Well, Steve and I have already watched a lot of what’s not triggering for him, so we had some idea of where to start. We decided to go with classic Doctor Who. That okay?” Sam said, sitting down close to her.

“Should be,” Natasha nodded as Bucky sat between them. “Jarvis, we sure this’ll be okay?”

“By all reviews and diagnoses, yes. Nothing in the episodes that I have queued should trigger any of you. I have limited data on Sgt. Wilson’s conditions, but he has insisted that he will be content with whatever Captain Rogers and yourself are alright with, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha gave Sam a look, but said, “Perfect. Thank you, Jarvis.” Then quietly to Sam, she said, “You will speak up if something’s not okay with you, right?”

Sam nodded and, though she was not convinced, Natasha relented.

Steve sat next to Natasha and said, “Alright. Let’s get this show rolling!”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “No one says that anymore, Steve.”

“I think it’s adorable,” Sam whispered.

“Me too,” Bucky and Natasha answered simultaneously. They exchanged a knowing look, and Bucky smiled just a little bit. Good, Natasha thought, progress.

A few hours later, the four of them had eaten their fill of Clint’s delicious spaghetti, and were sprawled out across the floor of the pillow fort. Sam and Steve were cuddling, Natasha was lying on her stomach with her head in her hands watching the TV, and Bucky was leaning back on his elbows beside her when he started shivering. She looked over at him immediately, trying to hide the concern on her face.

“What’s up?” she asked nonchalantly.

“I… I don’t know,” he said. “Cold, I guess.” He rubbed his arms and pulled his legs tightly into his chest.

“You know what the best way to fix that is?” she asked, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and crouching in front of him. He shook his head no. “Cuddling with someone,” she said with a smile. “I would if you wanted me to, but I’m sure Steve and Sam would let you in on theirs,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes brightened a little. Natasha grinned, and motioned for him to follow her over to the other two. “Guys, you’ve got one more coming in,” she told them. Steve smiled and Sam rolled over just enough so Bucky had room to wedge himself between them. Natasha spread out on her stomach next to them, content to sit outside the love fest. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

They must have fallen asleep sometime, because Natasha woke in the middle of the night to the harmony of Sam’s and Steve’s slight snoring. She wasn’t sure why she was awake until she noticed that Bucky was missing. After looking around, she found his silhouette in the kitchen.

“Barnes, come back,” she whispered, knowing that he could hear her.

He shook his head.

“Why?”

He didn’t say anything, and just shook his head again.

Natasha sighed lightly. “You don’t have to touch anyone, just come back and try to sleep. But we’ll all be here if you need someone.”

Bucky stood still for a minute before relenting and coming over to sit on the couch by himself. “I take it you don’t want to talk?” Natasha asked.

He nodded, and curled up on his side. Natasha let it go, knowing how difficult it was to come back to yourself after being gone for so long. Sometimes, you just need to be alone. At least she had managed to convince him to be alone with the rest of them: she feared he would be a danger to himself and others if he was truly alone.

She rolled over, grabbing a pillow and trying to go back to sleep. Bucky’s eyes were on her, and she felt them, but she stayed still and focused on relaxing. Soon enough, she was drifting off again.

Sam woke up when Steve’s warmth left him. The sun was just starting to paint the sky, and Steve was nowhere to be seen. Probably going for a run, Sam thought to himself as he rolled over. Before he shut his eyes, though, he saw Bucky watching him from the couch.

“Come on over,” he said, patting the spot next to him and holding the blanket up in invitation. Must have been waiting for the cue, Sam thought when Bucky immediately started making his way over to Sam’s side. He was hesitant to touch Sam, though, and only wrapped his limbs around Sam like a koala to a tree after Sam made the first move. Once they were all settled, Sam kissed Bucky’s forehead and settled in to sleep once more.

Bucky, for one, had not been prepared for that. However, he wasn’t too upset about it either. In fact, he kind of liked it. He was surprised, of course: he thought Sam and Steve were exclusive, but it was a good surprise.

Everyone woke up when Steve started frying bacon in the kitchen that joined to the pillow room. Natasha was the first one to the kitchen, sitting down on one of the remaining counter stools and resting her elbows on the countertop.

“Where’d you get the eggs?” she asked.

“Had to go grab them from the living room,” Steve said. “Bruce said that Tony has invited us to lunch this afternoon. What do you think?”

“I think we can do it,” Sam said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he sat down next to Natasha.

“Really?” Steve asked, looking at Natasha for an answer.

She deliberated before nodding. “Yeah, I think he’ll be okay. As long as Stark doesn’t go bat-shit crazy over his arm. And he already promised that he wouldn’t, but we all know how well he keeps his promises.”

“I think Bruce will keep him in line,” Steve said, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, he seems like a good guy,” he agreed. Bucky stood at the edge of the counter, watching Steve scramble a huge bowl full of eggs.

“Did I hear that right,” Bucky asked, “It’s not even breakfast time yet and we already have lunch plans?”

Steve smiled. “So it seems.” He paused. “How did you sleep?”

Bucky shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” Natasha asked, more direct than Steve could ever hope to be when it comes to Bucky.

Again, Bucky shrugged. “Better than yesterday, but still shitty. Hungry, though,” he added.

“Do you feel like you could go out and do something?” Sam asked. Natasha shot him a quizzical look, but wasn’t able to ask him where he was going with this before Bucky replied.

“Yeah, maybe. Not today though.”

Sam nodded, smiling at Steve when he set down a piping hot plate of food in front of him. “Thanks.”

“So,” Natasha said, taking a bite of her food before continuing. “What should we do until lunch?”

Steve and Bucky both shrugged, but Sam spoke up. “I think we should cover the windows with something so we aren’t woken up by the sunrise every morning. I don’t know about you guys, but I like sleeping in past 5am.”

“Oh yes. Me too,” Natasha said. “I know the windows in Malibu used to be able to block out the sunlight if you told them to, Jarvis. Can these do the same?”

“I’m afraid they only block out a certain amount of light. When sir designed the tower, he put the bedrooms on the west to avoid the morning sun, but since you all have decided to sleep in the east-facing living room, there is only so much I can do for you,” Jarvis said.

“That’s fine,” Natasha said. “We’ll just have to come up with something to block the windows with. And I have just the thing,” She smiled, taking another bite of eggs before disappearing down the hall. She emerged a few seconds later, holding an armful of dark fabric much like she had the day earlier.

“Where do you keep finding these absurd amounts of fabric?” Sam asked as he picked up part of it that was dragging on the floor.

She shrugged. “There’s one closet full of a ton of really long fabric pieces. I don’t know why, but I’m not complaining. Steve, grab the tape from the drawer, and Sam grab a couple chairs. We’re putting these up now.”

Sam raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, following Natasha to the side of the windows closest to the TV and bringing the chairs with him. Steve brought over the tape, as requested, and also handed Sam a stapler while giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try stapling it to the ceiling, cause tape doesn’t always work,” he suggested.

“Good plan,” Natasha said. “Stark won’t like it, but he doesn’t have to.” The two of them stood on their chairs and were able to reach the ceiling. “Hey, Barnes. Grab a chair and come help us,” she called to a sad looking Bucky who was pretending not to be watching them while pushing his fork around his empty plate. “Steve, get your butt over here too.”

The two did as they were told, and before long they had all become distracted, pretending they were doing handstands on the ceiling. “No, seriously, you’ve got to check this out,” Sam said, taking a picture of Steve planting both his palms on the ceiling, then flipping his phone upside down to show him. “Doesn’t this look awesome?” he asked.

Steve laughed when Bucky and Natasha crowded around them to get a better view. “Yeah, it does look pretty cool,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s finish this,” he chided.

However, by the time they actually finished covering the windows, just from the TV to the countertop, they were late for lunch. Sam really didn’t know where the time had gone, but he assumed he’d lost track between handstands on the ceiling and trying to jump from chair to chair while pretending the floor was lava. He felt like a kid again and didn’t want it to end, especially since he was around people who wouldn’t judge him for being himself.

Even Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself, but he looked nervous when they put the chairs back and grabbed clothes to change into before going to see everyone upstairs.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Sam promised him. “I’ve met a couple of the people we’re going to go eat with, and they’re super chill. We’ll have a good time.”

After Sam went to go get changed, Bucky sat on the couch wearing a doubtful expression. Steve came in and sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said somewhat awkwardly.

“Hi,” Bucky said, barely hiding his suspicion.

“So I know you’re nervous about lunch, and that’s fine, it’s understandable, though you shouldn’t be,” Steve started. “But I’d like to talk about us for a minute.” He waited for Bucky to nod before continuing. “Look, I know we had some sort of thing going on before, well, before what happened, and I really liked it. Like, really liked it. And I’d like you to know that even though Sam and I are a thing right now, we’d be more than happy to have you join us if you want to,” he said breathlessly.

Bucky waited a beat before answering. “Join us? Like, both of you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, both of us. Sam likes you, I definitely like you, and best of all it’s okay nowadays. People won’t shun us on the streets or kick us out of restaurants for holding hands anymore. The world has changed, in this case for the better.”

Bucky nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to push you into anything,” Steve said when he didn’t answer immediately, “I just want you to know that you have the option. And if you don’t want anything romantic, that’s fine too. We’ll pride ourselves on being your best friends for as long as you want us,” he concluded as Natasha and Sam entered the room.

“Damn straight,” Sam said with a smile.

Natasha nodded, giving Bucky a small reassuring smile.

“We good?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded and smiled a little himself, standing up with Steve and putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they walked towards the elevator.

“Finally,” Tony said when the four of them walked out of the elevator.

“Tony, you only got here yourself five minutes ago,” Bruce said from his chair. “Hey guys,” he greeted them as they sat down on the couch by him. “Thanks for coming,” he said, especially to Bucky.

“No, don’t sit down,” Clint complained when he walked into the living room. “Food’s ready.” He turned on his heel and stalked back to the kitchen.

“We better go get food,” Natasha said, standing up. “He only gets like this when he’s been waiting a while – he’s a very impatient man for an archer. That’s Clint Barton, by the way” she told Bucky. “Codename Hawkeye. Possibly the most apathetic creature living in this tower, except when it comes to accuracy in archery and waiting for praise on his cooking abilities.”

Bucky nodded, following Natasha to a kitchen that was much more expansive than theirs was. Clint had made a mountain of grilled cheese sandwiches, with all sorts of extra things in them. Everyone took a couple halves, mixing and matching between ones with bacon, tomatoes, bacon and tomatoes, ham, and different cheeses. They all sat down at an incredibly long counter, and Tony started talking.

“So, Bucky, can I call you Bucky?” Surprisingly, he waited for Bucky to nod before continuing to blabber. “I’m Tony Stark. I own the building you’re currently living in, and the food that you’re eating.” Natasha gave Stark a look, because he only started with that intro when he was about to tell someone what he wanted from them.: he’d done the same thing with all the other team members before, most memorably when he asked Natasha to kidnap the mayor of New York City so he could ask him about getting some more city funding ‘for the arc reactor project.’ In reality, he just wanted to collect his winnings from their illegal poker tournaments. “I was looking at your file, crazy stuff man. Wow. Anyway, I was looking at your file, and I have an idea. I can make you a new arm, if you want, cause that thing looks like it’s made of way old tech.”

He took a moment to actually look at Bucky’s face and didn’t like what he was seeing. Bucky looked nonplussed at best; realistically, he seemed more like a nervous animal that was about to bolt. “Okay, yeah, both Bruce and Sam told me that was a bad idea, but I thought I’d try anyway. On a more serious note, I can make a synthetic flesh sleeve to go over it. It’ll make it look more normal, and it’ll prevent it from getting water damage and from getting it hot or cold enough to hurt your actual skin.” Bucky looked slightly more comfortable with that idea, and Tony smiled. “Okay, great. I’ll work on it. Steve,” he said, turning to Steve, who was sitting on his other side.

“A little birdy told me that you don’t know what you like to do. First of all, how,” Tony said seriously. “I’m not joking, how do you even live not knowing what you like to do? Second of all, also how. But third of all, and this one’s good, I’ve taken it upon myself to help you find what you like to do,” he informed Steve with a grin. “So, I’m sending you all on three day trips to some of the most well-liked places in the area, in hopes that you’ll find something you like to do. Okay? Okay, good,” Tony said, not letting anyone answer before standing up. “Gotta get back to the lab, but good talk guys. Oh, and your first trip is to the Met museum of art tomorrow. Should be relatively quiet, it being a weekday in the middle of May, so I think you guys’ll have a good time. I’ll send someone down with tickets and info later today. Maybe Thor, but he might not be back. Probably Clint. See ya’ll later,” he said as he elevator doors closed in his face.

Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to process all Tony just said. “Wow.” Sam said, stunned. “He really can talk.”

Bucky nodded, and Clint laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”

Steve was staring at Sam. “You told him both of those things, didn’t you?” he asked, trying to keep accusation out of his tone and doing a fairly good job.

“Maybeee,” Sam said in such a way that Steve had learned meant yes. “Look I didn’t know he was going to be so blunt about it, but I thought both of those things would be good for us,” he said. “He’s also rebuilding my wings for me!”

Steve wanted to be upset but he couldn’t find the anger. He smiled at Sam’s enthusiasm. “You’re probably right. This will be good for us,” he said, finishing his grilled cheese and bringing his plate to the dishwasher. “Everybody ready to head back down?” he asked.

The others nodded, not sure what he had in mind, but curious to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

When they got back to their pillow fort, Steve crashed in the middle of it. Sam and Bucky laid on either side of him, each kissing one of Steve’s cheeks simultaneously. Steve turned to look at Bucky and grinned. “Does that mean yes?” he asked, eyes bright.

Bucky nodded and kissed him again. Natasha rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch, telling Jarvis to turn on one of her Russian dramas while the boys had their fun. They didn’t go too far, which she was happy about: no clothes came off. They just kissed each other. A lot. When she thought about it, Steve was acting like he had experience with being in a three-way, which was strange, but not inconceivable. She made a mental note to do some digging on that later. Trying not to spend too much time watching them, she forced herself to stare straight ahead at the television, but failed to tune out what was in her opinion some overly sexual moaning.

When she finally gave in and looked over at them, she felt a pang of jealousy in her stomach. It had been so long since she had felt like Bucky was acting, with Steve making out with him and Sam carding a hand through his hair while mouthing at his neck. Steve’s hands were cradling Bucky’s face, holding him close. Meanwhile, Sam’s hands slowly trailed down Bucky’s chest, stopping to palm at Bucky’s hard-on and sending him keening. Surprisingly, Bucky didn’t look at all nervous about his loss of control. In fact, he looked nearly blissed out. He pulled one of his hands out of its position pulling Steve’s hair and mimicked Sam’s motions on the taut fabric of Steve’s crotch, causing Steve’s breath to hitch in his throat. Natasha had to be happy about that, of course she was, but that happiness didn’t do much to quell her jealousy.

She forced herself to block out their obscene sounds, to watch her drama again. Before long, Natasha had been reabsorbed by the television, and the boys had stopped making such pornographic noises, curling up and cuddling together instead. Bucky seemed to interested in the show too, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder so he could still see the screen. Natasha looked over at him and smiled. They all looked happy together, which was good. That was what she wanted for her friends, what they all deserved.

The show ended, and Bucky started kissing Sam, making some sexual noises in the process. “Damn, that was good,” Bucky said when they finally broke apart. “You might just be the best kisser of the three of us.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Sam said breathlessly before pulling Steve in for a kiss, during which they both made similarly sexual noises. “Mmmm, though choice,” Sam said when he and Steve broke apart.

Then it was Steve and Bucky’s turn to kiss, hungrily and long, like they had been waiting a long time to explore each other. Then again, Natasha thought, they probably had. “Shit,” Steve breathed when they finally broke apart. “That’s a tough choice. I might just have to declare myself best kisser,” he said teasingly.

“Hell no,” Bucky said. “Nat, get over here and tell us who’s better,” he called. Natasha smiled to herself as she went over to join their dog pile. Of course Bucky had seen her gazing lustfully at them – she really hadn’t been very discreet.

She kissed Sam first, pleasantly surprised by his aggressive attitude towards kissing. He kissed unabashedly, biting and tugging at her lower lip and fisting his hands in her hair. “That… That was pretty good,” she said, catching her breath when they separated. “Steve, you’re up,” she said as she crawled into his lap. Steve kissed more gently, taking his sweet time tracing his tongue over her lips, and pulling her hair just enough to make her moan. “That was good, Rogers. You’ve been practicing,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s see what you got, Barnes,” Natasha said as she made her way to his side.

Bucky kissed her without hesitation, his mouth familiar with her in ways that his mind was not. He kissed her hard, though not as hard as Sam had, biting her lip and tugging on it teasingly. When they broke apart, they were both panting. In all honesty, even though the three guys had different kissing styles, she couldn’t decide which one she liked better.

“Can I call a three-way tie?” she asked, earning her three very bright smiles.

“Oh, I guess that’s okay,” Sam said.

“Not as easy as it seems, is it?” Bucky said, nudging her shoulder playfully.

At that moment, the elevator doors dinged open, and in walked Tony Stark. “What the hell, guys,” he said, gesturing towards the pillow fort. “All this furniture and you decide to put it all on the floor?” Then he saw them, everyone’s hair tousled and lips swollen from kissing. “What the hell, are you serious? I… Nope, I’m not going to go there,” he said, tossing some papers down on the roof of the pillow fort. “Here’re your tickets for tomorrow, go have fun. But I don’t want to see you until after you get back from the Met,” he said, quickly leaving them alone again.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, everyone burst into laughter. This was the first time Steve had felt honestly good in a very long time, and he was starting to remember what happy felt like. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As things turned out, Tony had bought them tickets that were only good on Thursdays, and he had given them to Steve on a Tuesday, so they had an extra day of doing nothing before they had somewhere to be.

But no one actually wanted to do nothing on Wednesday. They’d woken up relatively early in a dog pile in the pillow fort, and decided they wanted to go do something when Bucky asked what the plan for the day was.

“That depends,” Sam said. “What do you want to do?”

“How should I know?” Bucky asked, playfully hitting Sam’s shoulder. “I haven’t been here before,” he said, adding, “That I remember,” quietly.

“We’re in New York, we could do anything,” Sam said. “There’s Broadway, and shopping, and dancing, and the beach, and so much more.

“The beach sounds fun,” Natasha commented.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

Bucky sighed. “Can’t. I’d get sand in here, and… I’m not sure I want to know what would happen with that,” he admitted.

Natasha nodded. “Okay, that’s fine.”

Before anyone could make any more suggestions, Tony Stark waltzed in again.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to see us until after we’d gone to the museum?” Steve asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Nah, I wasn’t serious. And I finished Barnes’ synth-skin sleeve,” he said, showing them all something that looked generally like a flap of skin.

“That looks gross,” Sam said.

“What does it do?” Natasha asked when Tony walked up to Bucky and held out the synthetic skin for him to look at. Bucky examined it carefully.

“Yeah, what exactly will it do?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, not only would it make your arm look normal, but it would also act as a temperature regulator, making sure the metal doesn’t get too extremely hot or cold, and it would keep external stuff out of all the little joint pieces,” he explained. “Basically, it would protect the metal of the arm like your skin protects your muscle and bone on the rest of your body. Okay?”

Bucky deliberated for a minute, but then nodded, interested in just how the thing would work. “Okay. Can you put it on? Gently?”

“Of course,” Tony said with a smile. Natasha wondered if Bruce had told him about Bucky’s panic attacks, because he seemed much more understanding and willing to help than normal. That may just be the new Tony, though, especially considering his recent anxiety diagnosis. She resigned herself to waiting and observing how he acted with everyone else.

Once Tony secured the synth-skin to Bucky’s real skin, he backed up so Bucky could stretch out his arm. The synth-skin blended almost seamlessly with his regular skin, nicely covering up the careless scars the Russians had left on his chest. “This’ll last for as long as you want,” Tony explained while Bucky maneuvered his arm in every way he could imagine. “But if you ever want me to replace your arm entirely, just let me know. I’ll be able to do whatever you want to it. Well, not whatever, but probably most things that you would want. Anyway, just let me know if you’re interested. Hope you like it,” he said, turning to leave.

“Wait, Tony,” Bucky called after him, and Tony turned. “Thank you.”

Tony smiled. “You’re welcome.” Then he turned around and left.

“So. Beach?” Sam asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

A few hours later, the four of them were tanning on a sunny sandy beach in North Long Island. Given that the beach was empty, there was much more kissing than Bucky would have thought acceptable for a public place, but he was quite alright with that. Sam and Bucky had made a sand castle, and Steve had pulled out a book he had been meaning to read. Natasha waded in the freezing cold water by herself. She hadn’t wanted any of the others to feel uncomfortable having to decline her offer to go swimming, so she didn’t ask them. They knew each other well enough to know each other’s triggers, and water, especially cold water, wasn’t ideal for both Steve and Bucky. Natasha dunked her head and quickly came back to the shore to warm up while reading her magazine.

After Natasha warmed up, she and Bucky strode down the beach towards a lighthouse in the distance. They walked in companionable silence. Natasha paused to pick up a shell, presenting the perfect sand dollar to Bucky with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. The shell fit perfectly in the palm of his hand and he tested its strength by wrapping his fingers around it. He was surprised by how strong it was.

"So," Natasha said as they started walking again. "How are you?"

Oddly enough, Bucky felt like he couldn't lie to her, so he didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. "Surprisingly ok," he said after a pause. "I... I remember things. I remember Steve from before, back when he was small. I remember fighting by his side, without really knowing what for. I remember... Falling. The cold. The pain. But after that, I don't remember much of many thing until you found me in the bedroom."

"Do you want to dig through the fuzzy parts with me?" Natasha asked quietly.

"Ugh," he scrubbed his face with one hand, "there's... Cold. Always cold. A shit ton of white hot pain, though I don't know what from. Then... Lots of empty time, but Steve's face floats in and out towards the end. Mostly noise and colors, some of you, some of Sam, some of Bruce, until just before we built the fort."

Natasha nodded, listening intently. "Do you ever feel like you're losing yourself again?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really. Once or twice, maybe, but I don't think the other guy's coming back."

"What do you mean by once or twice?" Natasha prodded gently.

"Drifting off to sleep, mostly," Bucky admitted, "I would feel... Not myself. Out of control. By the second time, though, I could wake myself back up and bring myself back to my senses."

"Does it still happen?"

"Not that I've noticed," Bucky said, climbing up on a rock next to the lighthouse and resting his elbows easily on his knees. "Last time was... after you brought back that pasta from the living-floor on that first night."

Natasha nodded understandingly, taking a seat next to him. "Would you tell me if it has happened since then?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"Cause if it has, we can help you," Natasha added quietly.

"What do you mean, help me?"

"Well, that's up to you. We all know vaguely what it's like to not know yourself anymore, so we're happy to do whatever you need, anything from extra cuddling to holding off on the sexual parts of our relationship."

"Definitely not that second one," Bucky said immediately.

"Oh really?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow. "Any specific reason?"

"We haven't gone all the way yet, I know," Bucky said, "but... I don't know, the times I feel the most alive, the most myself, are when one of you guys are touching me. So far the making out has been doing great, and Sam's touching my dick yesterday was even better..." He trailed off, standing up and offering Natasha a hand to her feet.

"I can understand that part," Natasha started carefully, accepting his help up and starting back down the beach. "Just... Know that orgasms are different. You leave yourself for a while, and that might be scary for you. We'll see how you do sometime today, but if you ever want any one of us to stop something we're doing to you, you need to say so, okay?"

Bucky nodded, looking at his bare feet as he mulled over what she said. They continued in a comfortable silence until they got back to where Sam and Steve lay tanning on their beach towels. Bucky motioned for Natasha to be quiet as he ran silently up behind them and slid down onto Steve's bare back.

Steve grunted when Bucky sat on him, but didn't seem too surprised when he looked up to see who it was. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Bucky said, leaning down to kiss Steve's shoulder. Natasha sat down on the towel next to Sam, watching the other two with a bemused smile. She rolled her eyes when Bucky bit down on the tender spot where Steve's shoulder met his neck, but couldn't ignore the heat pooling in her stomach listening to Steve's moan. It had obviously had the same affect on Sam, who sat up and pulled Natasha in for another wicked kiss.

By the time they separated, breaking just enough to breathe, Steve had rolled over, and Bucky was now sitting on his lap. They were making out as intensely as Sam and Natasha had been. Sam and Natasha watched them for a bit, only interrupting when Natasha noticed Bucky’s hands moving down to the elastic waistband of Steve’s shorts.

“No, Bucky. No beach sex,” she said, trying to sound reprimanding.

“Why no beach sex?” Sam asked, sounding slightly let down as he adjusted his own shorts.

“Cause the sand’s a pain in the ass,” Steve said with a smile. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“I do,” Natasha said, “That shit gets everywhere. Now if you guys want to jerk each other off, or fuck, or whatever, that’s fine by me. Just know we won’t have any fun when we get home later cause you’ll all be too busy showering and trying to scrub the sand off yourselves. Which is damn painful, might I add.”

That got Bucky thinking. “What kind of fun?” he asked skeptically.

“Only the best kind,” Natasha answered with a sly smile.

“See, that doesn’t even come close to answering his question,” Steve objected, though Bucky was getting situated next to him rather than on top of him. Natasha counted that as a victory.

“He knows exactly what I mean,” she said, shooting Bucky a knowing look.

Her look made Bucky scoot even further away from Steve, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm his racing heart and bring his lust down to a manageable level. Steve tried doing the same, and Sam stifled a laugh. It’s horrible to do that to yourself, he would know, but it’s damn funny to watch someone else purposefully try to lose their erection.

Sam lay back down, and Natasha rested her head on his chest. He played absently with her hair, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat of the early summer sun. Soon, he felt Natasha move. Squinting his eyes open, he saw Bucky and Steve had joined them, creating a maze of bodies all resting on each other. Sam closed his eyes again and relaxed back into the sand, easily losing track of time between the heat and the close proximity of his lovers.

After a day spent relaxing, everyone was content. They stopped at a small family-run pizza place that Natasha swore by on the way home, and no one was disappointed. She obviously knew the owners, talking to them happily after ordering. Bucky didn’t know what kind of pizza he liked, so the staff agreed to let him try whatever sounded good. Sam thought that Natasha must have done something for them before, cause no one was that nice anymore, but he didn't ask about it.

Roughly four pizzas later, they were all stuffed. Bucky had figured out that he liked cheese pizza best, but Hawaiian was a close second. They all piled in the car and cranked up the music, deciding to take the long way home.

They drove most of the way along the coast, windows rolled down, listening to classic rock. Steve sat in the passenger’s seat, arm hanging out the window. He was lost in thought. Natasha and Bucky were cuddled together in the back seat, sharing kisses occasionally. But Steve… he felt pretty good. His heart was warm despite the cool evening breeze, and he was dazed in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion for once. He was pretty sure this was what happy felt like, and he was starting to like it.

And when they got back to the pillow fort, leaving clothes by the door and reveling in the best sex any of them had ever experienced, Steve was sure that wherever they went together, he would be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thank you to 3 very important people! Digitalwave for being my AMAZING artist, Everythingaswell for being beta and cheerleader, and wintercyan for all the medical meta! Couldn't have done it without you guys!
> 
> Meta I used at http://wintercyan.tumblr.com/post/94901869172/etharei-buckysexual-rocks0cks-just and more of her amazing CA:TWS (and more) meta at http://wintercyan.tumblr.com/tagged/meta
> 
> Go check out Digitalwave's companion art at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2601611


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